


Five Times Harry Might or Might Not Make It

by violet_hour



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Desperate!Harry, Desperation, M/M, Omorashi, Pee, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-17 17:31:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 39,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violet_hour/pseuds/violet_hour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mini series involving desperate!Harry for all the omorashi fans out there<br/>--Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cinematic Misfortunes

Every time. This happened to him every single time. It was his own fault, but still; every single time?

Louis was focused intently on the massive screen ahead of them, but Harry was eyeing his empty soda cup miserably. It didn’t matter how many times he swore to himself he wouldn’t order the largest size, it didn’t matter how many times he promised he wouldn’t drink it all in the first ten minutes of the movie, somehow he always managed to do both in the end. Idiot. 

It seemed to go without fail that he always found himself stuck in the middle of the aisle at the theater, an indefinite amount of film time left, and his feet tapping with the need to go to the toilet. It was just his fate, apparently.  

Louis was still sipping away at his own iced drink, and Harry tried really hard not to listen. The slurping sound was going right to his bladder and he pressed his legs together, turning his knees into each other. As he sat there struggling in his seat, Harry scolded himself for not going sooner. The reason he hadn’t was because he didn’t want to miss any of the movie, but he’d already missed the past twenty minutes because all he could focus on was the incredible need to wee. And it was too late to go now; the movie had to be ending soon. God he hoped so anyway. 

His hand was gripping the armrest so tightly he could feel how white his knuckle must be turning.  The other hand was currently in his lap, clenching in a fist to avoid the urge to squeeze his groin that was beginning to pulse unpleasantly. It might be dark in the theater, but it was also completely packed too; another group sitting just beside him. 

That was another reason why he’d made himself sit there holding it instead of going to the loo; no matter which way he turned to leave, he’d have to climb past and around an entire aisle of people, drinks, and popcorn. And of course, he and Louis had chosen to sit right smack in the middle of it all too. Harry should really start thinking these things through better.  

Suddenly, cold fingers were sliding onto the armrest and intertwining themselves with Harry’s, startling him enough that he jumped the tiniest; yet still noticeable amount in his seat. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Louis whispered to him.

Harry really had to clench his other fist as he forced himself to loosen the one on the armrest so Louis could clasp their hands.

“You didn’t,” he lied. He squeezed his legs again. 

He could feel Louis’s eyes on him, and he turned to look at him, forcing a strained smile, “I’m fine, see?”

Louis shrugged. “You want some of my drink? It’s not bad actually,” he indicated his blueberry slushie with a shake of his cup.

Harry bit his lip and shook his head tensely, “No thanks.” If there was anything in the world Harry didn’t want, it was some of that drink. Or any drink for that matter.

With another audible slurp, Louis went back to the movie and Harry went back to tapping his foot distractedly. ‘ _It’s gotta be over soon_ ,’ he kept telling himself, shifting in his seat as he tried to redirect his focus onto the film and not his aching bladder.

Ten restless minutes later, the movie was still not over despite Harry’s constant reassurance to himself that it was, ‘ _any time now_ ’, and his legs were starting to shake from the pressure in his lower stomach. Louis had shifted himself over so that he was right up against him now, and Harry was physically straining to resist squirming around too noticeably. Louis tugged his hand and leaned even closer so that his head was resting against Harry’s shoulder. Harry smudged his face and curled his toes. Any other time it would have been lovely, but right now all Louis’s moving closer was doing was sending painful jolts right to Harry’s overly full bladder. 

Wincing, he stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankles, trying to relax with his head falling to rest against Louis’s. But any attempts were proving futile; there was no way he could relax at this point. 

Crossing his legs tighter, he tried not to think about how full his bladder felt. But it was impossible. That was all he could think about.  
   
The characters onscreen were blathering on and on in what appeared to be a dramatic and pivotal point in the plot, but all Harry was able to hear was his own voice inside his head screaming every version of, ‘ _Ughghgh oh my god, I have to fucking wee!_ ’ that he could come up with. 

With difficulty, he uncrossed his legs again, and twisted himself as lightly as he could so to not disturb Louis; who was still resting against him, over to his right side. He set his elbow uneasily onto the other armrest. Tapping his foot, he tried to take a steadying breath, but that only caused him more discomfort, and he blew it out again quickly.

Anxiously, he checked his watch, trying to determine how much longer this movie could possibly go on for. They’d already been in here for an hour and a half; it couldn’t be much longer now. Could it? Again, for what must have been the thirtieth time that night, he glanced to his right to see his potential exit completely packed with people; most of who had their legs up on the seats in front of them. Then he checked his left; it was the same thing. He was trapped. 

Then suddenly, instead of cold fingers, he felt something warm and wet against his neck and he jumped again.

“Sheesh,” Louis muttered jokingly, pulling his mouth away from where he’d just tried to kiss him. “I must be worse at this than I thought if you keep jumping away like that.” He didn’t sound hurt, but Harry felt bad anyway.

He shook his head, rocking his hips slightly, “Sorry. No, you’re fine,” he assured him. He angled his head a little so Louis would take the hint, “Go ahead.”

Louis accepted the invitation and leaned back into to nuzzle at Harry’s neck, biting teasingly at his skin. Harry was more than happy for the distraction and closed his eyes as he pleaded with himself to concentrate on Louis and nothing else. But even that was easier said than done. All he could feel was that throbbing pulse near his groin and he scrunched his face, whimpering lightly. He needed to go. He really, really needed to go.

As he tapped his legs anxiously, he started wondering why he was even putting himself through this. He should just go to the loo. So what if he had to climb over everybody and disturb their viewing for a few seconds. It was better than sitting here wiggling around as he tried not to pee his pants.

It was one more desperate squeeze of his legs before he made up his mind.

“Louis?” He hissed, pulling away, barely aware of the lovebite Louis was trying to work on his skin.

Louis pulled off with a slight huff, “Huh? I’m not done yet,” he said.

“I have to go to the loo,” Harry gritted out, banging his legs together. Rocking slightly in his seat, he leaned over to try and determine which escape route would be less life threatening. They both looked about the same.

“Um, not really the best time, Harry.” Louis groaned. He twirled a finger in Harry’s curls and started leaning back into his neck again. “I’m busy,” he added, taking another bit of skin between his teeth.  

Scrunching his face up tensely, Harry let out a small moan that Louis must have taken as a good sound because he bit down even harder. 

God, could Harry wait anymore? ‘ _Louis, Louis, Louis,_ ’ he muttered to himself, squeezing his eyes tight. ‘ _Just focus on Louis._ ’ He could feel the little nibbles at his skin, the trailing of Louis’s tongue, but it was completely overshadowed by the incessant, unremitting pressure in his bladder. He couldn’t hold it anymore. 

“No, I’m sorry Louis,” he whined, starting to bounce in his seat. “I really have to go.”

“Can’t it just wait ‘til after the movie? It’s almost over,” Louis sighed, only pulling away slightly. “And I’m not done kissing you.” 

But Harry was at the edge of his seat, grinding against it to try and ease the pressure. It absolutely could not wait until the end of the movie, not anymore at least. Especially since there apparently was no end to the movie.

He shook his head, “I have to go really bad,” he stressed, turning his knees towards each other again. “I don’t think I can wait.” Louis was still attacking his neck, but Harry realized he was really going to be in trouble if he didn’t get a move on very, very soon. He made to get up, “Sorry. Please?” He felt Louis pull away with a sigh. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Folding his arms across his chest and looking annoyed, Louis said, “You better be.”

Almost jumping from his seat, Harry decided to try his luck with the left side or the row, if only for the fact that there were a few less feet against seatbacks that he’d have to deal with. Louis scooted up and turned his legs so Harry could get by, and Harry ended up knocking his slushie over in the process.

“Oh shoot,” he groaned, but Louis just chuckled at him, giving him a small whack to the bum as he shuffled past. 

“’Scuse me,” Harry mumbled to the person beside Louis who was so involved in the movie he apparently didn’t noticed Harry’s anxious form right next to him. 

Reluctantly, the guy brought his feet down to the floor, only moving them enough so that Harry had to press right up to the seat ahead of him to squeeze by. In fact, that’s more or less how the entire rest of his descent through the crowded aisle went. Also included were a few stumbles on Harry’s part over legs and bags; a few groans and moans from the people he passed (as if none of them had ever had to leave a movie to pee before); and even a, ‘ _Ugh, hurry up then_ ,’ from a delightful patron near the end of the row.

‘ _Well, fuck you, too,_ ’ Harry thought angrily, still hurrying to get by because he was just that nice. That and he was seriously about to wee his trousers. 

Finally free of the aisle, Harry squinted against the darkness. Of course, he and Louis had chosen to sit at the very top row like they always did, despite Harry and this same situation’s continuous pattern. 

Carefully, but hurriedly, he began making his way down the stairs. It wasn’t easy. Each step made the liquid in his bladder slosh around horribly. He cringed the whole way down, even having to stop to squeeze his legs halfway. ‘ _That’s it_ ’, Harry decided of himself. _’You’re absolutely never getting another drink at the movies, ever again. Understood? This happens every bloody time…’_

When he finally reached the bottom stair, he half walked-half ran down the hall leading to the main part of the theater. Where the bathroom he so badly needed would be. He was taking the opportunity that no one else was around to squeeze at himself. It didn’t really help too much, but it felt good at least. 

Once he reached the door, he pulled it open and stepped anxiously into the main hall. He hadn’t remembered passing the bathrooms on the way in so he wasn’t sure where exactly they were.

Jiggling in place, he glanced around nervously. _’Oh god, if I was a loo, where would I be?’_ he wondered anxiously, teeth grit as he leaned from side to side. Well, squinting down the left just seemed to lead to more theaters, so he decided to take his chance and try the right hallway. Clenching his hands into fists, he blew out a slow breath and set off at a quick pace.

On the way, he managed to bump into a young attendant sweeping the floor and Harry didn’t hesitate to ask, “Bathroom? Where’s the bathroom?” while bouncing on his toes.

The guy seemed to recognize the urgency and he pointed down the hall (the one Harry had correctly guessed), “Just down the end. To the right.”

Harry gritted his teeth into another strained smile, “Thanks,” before he dashed off.  
   
There it was! He had never been so happy to see a toilet before. Well, that was a lie. He’d been plenty happy to see a toilet many, many times before in circumstances quite like this one. But at the moment, he couldn’t remember being happier. 

Feeling like he was about to burst, he almost ran the last few feet before he came to a sudden halt, mouth dropping open in disbelief. 

This could not be happening. Not right now. Not when the two and a half cups; well maybe it was more like five and a half cups, of coke he’d drank had managed to turn itself into five and a half gallons of pee, straining to release itself.

Desperately, he reached out for the door handle and tried to pull. It didn’t budge. Fuck!  
“No, no, no, noooo,” Harry groaned, tugging uselessly. 

They had all day, any hour of 24 to choose from, and they pick right now to close the fucking toilet for cleaning. And lock it too. Like insult to injury. 

“Oh my god, I have to wee so bad!” He hissed, crossing his legs and reaching down to squeeze his cock as discreetly as he could. What was he going to do? He didn’t know, he seriously had to go so bad.

He began pacing back and forth trying to grasp how this was actually happening to him right now. Then he had sudden thought. Maybe he could use the women’s restroom. Yes, that’s exactly what he was going to. He didn’t care. It was an emergency. 

Glancing around, he spotted it a few feet away and took all of five painful steps towards it, when a group of girls appeared out of nowhere and went inside, chattering animatedly. Harry stopped mid-step and groaned loudly. He couldn’t go in there. He’d probably get thrown out of the theater. Or worse. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Now he was starting to panic. As far as he could tell, there wasn’t another bathroom he could use. It wasn’t exactly the largest theater in town. 

His legs were pressing together as he tried to calm himself down. _’You’ve just got to wait,’_ he tried to tell himself, eyes clasping shut, hands in fists and half-bouncing on the spot. _’The movie’s gotta be over soon. And the toilet has to be open by then. You’ll be fine. You’ve had to go worse than this before._ ’ Only that was pushing it a bit. He was more trying to convince himself he’d be fine to wait just a little longer, than actually being able to recall a time when he’d had to pee quite this bad. 

With this fleeting resolve, he gulped and turned to make his way slowly back to the theater, no idea how he was going to last.

Back through the door and into the dark hallway leading to the staircase, his hand went right back to his crotch and he squeezed himself the entire walk through. When he got to the stairs however, he cringed. How was he going to climb all the way to the top without popping this massive water balloon parading as his bladder?

Gritting his teeth, he gripped the railing and took step after slow and painful step. Somehow he made it to the top, but he was huffing like he’d just run a marathon. The same people groaned as he struggled to squeeze past again to his seat. And he even tripped on someone’s bag, causing him to stumble a step and jolting his bladder that much more.

“Ohhhhhoougggh,” he groaned, wincing as he finally made it to his seat again.

Louis smiled at him, obviously unaware of Harry’s fretful state, and clasped his hand as soon as he sat back down.

“I missed you,” he smirked, leaning in for a kiss before noticing Harry’s tense and trembling form. “What’s the matter?” He raised an eyebrow curiously, “You don’t look so good.”

“I have to pee!” Harry choked, fingers digging into his thighs. 

Louis frowned, confused, “I thought you just went.”

“No,” Harry shook his head, rocking in his seat and holding his breath. “I didn’t. I couldn’t. They closed it for cleaning.” Still rocking forward, he crossed one leg tightly over the other trying to get his dick in between them to prevent any unwanted leakage. He wrapped his arms around his knees, folding himself almost in half. “And then,” he continued in whispered hisses, “I was going to go in the girls’ loo because I’m desperate, but a bunch of girls went in and I couldn’t. Oh my god, I’m about to pee my pants!” He squeezed his legs and clasped his eyes shut.

To his incredible disbelief, Louis started laughing at him. What the fuck? Did he think this was a joke?

“Oh my god, Louis,” Harry groaned. “It’s not bloody funny!”

“Sorry,” Louis cleared his throat, trying to force the grin from his face. “You’re right.” He giggled again and if Harry had any extra energy to spare, he’d have smacked him. “You should think about being a contortionist for the circus. I’ve never seen someone tangle themselves up like this before. Strangely impressive.”

So it was a joke. Well that was just bloody terrific. He couldn’t even count on his own ‘loving’ boyfriend to comfort him at the mist of a crisis like this. Fuck, what was Harry going to do?

“Look,” Louis patted him on the shoulder in what was apparently a reassuring way, “I’m sure it’ll be open again when the film’s over. You’ll be okay ‘til then, won’t you?”

_NO!_ was the only thing that came to Harry’s mind. He would absolutely not be okay until then. Even in his distracted state, he could sense the people sitting next to him glancing over at his odd behavior. Whimpering, he twisted himself over so that he was facing Louis, his legs crossed as tight as he could get them, and his bladder pulsing so loudly he couldn’t even hear the movie anymore. 

“Just try not to think about it, love,” Louis suggested unhelpfully, as he reached for a bit of his popcorn. 

“It’s way too late for that,” Harry told him, tapping his crossed leg restlessly.

Louis then nodded his head at Harry’s empty cup, “Maybe you could pee in that?” he teased.

“Oh yes,” Harry snapped, reaching down to grip his crotch. “And not only get tossed out of here, but also potentially arrested, and then forever banned from going to another theater again. What a wonderful suggestion, Lou. Keep them coming.”

“Sheesh,” Louis raised an eyebrow. “I was only joking, you know.”

“Sorry,” Harry whined, shifting around, uncrossing his legs and wiggling his hips. “I just seriously need a wee so bad!” 

“Ok,” Louis nodded, squeezing Harry’s hand that he was still holding. “I think it will help if you just calm down a little though. Honestly, the more you worry about it the more anxious you’re going to end up making yourself.”

“Can’t calm down,” Harry shook his head. “It hurts too bad.”

“Want me to try kissing you again. It might help you relax?”

“I don’t know,” Harry moaned, shifting up in his seat and pressing his hands into his crotch, his toes shoving into the floor. Honestly, the only thing that was going to help at this point was getting to a toilet and peeing. 

And then some five agonizing minutes later, just when Harry thought he was going to have to make another run for the loo and chance going in the girls’ whether anyone was in there or not, the lights came on, and he could hear the credits rolling.

His legs were squeezed tight, his hands still buried in his crotch and he bounced up in his seat, “Is it over!?”

“Well I usually like to stay for the credits…” Louis reminded, and Harry really hoped he was kidding.

Louis bent to set his popcorn on the floor; which usually Harry would have demanded that he pick back up and throw in the trash like a civil human being, but at the moment Harry couldn’t fucking care less if Louis field-kicked the box over and showered the entire theater in buttery kernels. All he cared about was weeing before his bladder exploded into a thousand tiny pieces. He jumped up readily.

Dancing on the spot he twisted his legs together as he waited for Louis to get up, and suddenly took in the state of his potential exits. The entire row was now a chaotic mess as people rose from their chairs, stretched, rummaged around for their belongings, and made their slow way to the staircase. 

“Come on,” Harry whined, stepping from foot to foot as he noticed Louis hadn’t attempted to get up yet. “What are you waiting for?”

Louis waved his hand at the crowded aisle, “No point in trying to leave now. Let’s just wait a minute for it to clear out a bit.”

“I can’t wait a minute!” Harry hissed, wiggling from side to side. “I have to go now! So either get up or move.”

“Tetchy,” Louis muttered. Somewhat reluctantly, he stood up and stretched a bit as he glanced down the aisle. It was still pretty packed but he started leading the way out.

Harry trailed after, walking right up behind Louis so he could give his cock subtle squeezes without anyone hopefully realizing what he was doing. But Louis suddenly stopped short when he hit the blockage of people trying to weave their way out at the row’s end, and Harry; not paying the slightest attention to anything else but the pounding, thumping pressure in his bladder, bumped right into him with a painful jolt.

“Ommmpfff!” he whimpered, gripping his cock tight and turning and pressing his right leg into his left.

“Sorry, Haz,” Louis turned to peck his cheek. “This is worse than the traffic in London at Christmastime.”

Shutting his eyes in pain, Harry bounced in place with his knees as he struggled to wait for people to figure out how to walk and get on with leaving already. Both his mind and bladder were screaming ‘ _Going to burst! Red alert – going to burst!_ ’ but Harry held his crotch tight; determined to hold it just a little bit longer. Just a little longer.

When they were finally free of the aisle, they still had to make it down the stairwell, and Harry didn’t know how he was going to do it. He could feel the perspiration lining his forehead. Of course, there was so much urine inside him it might have been pee and not sweat that was dripping down his face. 

“Jesus Christ, let’s get a move on people. You’ve all seen a staircase before,” Harry muttered, only loud enough for Louis to hear as he jiggled on each step waiting impatiently to get to the next one. The times he didn’t have to pee after the movie (which were rare, but did sometimes happen), he stayed with Louis to watch the credits, and apparently forgot what an incredible hassle it was to try and leave at the same time as everyone else. 

Louis couldn’t help smirking again at Harry’s impatience. “You tell them, Hazza,” he approved.

“I swear it’s going to turn into a water slide in a minute. I hope everyone brought their swim trunks,” Harry continued to rant in aggravation. 

“At least we don’t have to worry about shrinkage problems with a swim that warm,” Louis joked.

But Harry just scrunched his face and bounced on his toes, “Enough cheek,” he moaned. “I’m seriously panicking right now.” 

Louis pinched his bum and grinned at Harry’s surprised gasp, “You’re the one who started it.”

What couldn’t have been less than a thousand hours later, they finally made it to the bottom of the stairs, and even though there were still people everywhere, the hall wasn’t so narrow that Harry couldn’t dart and dive past anyone who might be blocking him. Without even waiting for Louis, Harry took off with the knowledge that he would obviously know where to find him anyway.

Through the doors, Harry practically ran the rest of the way to the toilets. He was prepared to take a drastic emergency dash into the women’s toilet if necessary. But rounding the corner he wasn’t sure if he was more relieved or dismayed at what he saw. 

The men’s toilet was apparently back open, but now there was a massive queue leading to it. Due not only to the fact that a movie had just ended and everyone who had decided to wait was now anxiously ready to go, but also because it had been recently closed off to those who had attempted to use it earlier. Like Harry had. 

Shit, shit, shit! Desperately, he looked to the women’s loo but there was a line there too. He hated his life so much sometimes. 

Looking like what must have been some sort of junkie desperate for his next fix, Harry stepped in behind the last guy in queue and crossed his legs in a way that was nowhere near as casual as he would have hoped it to be. Swaying where he stood, he glanced frantically to the line ahead of him, counting the number of people he somehow had to wait through. He was so tempted to ask if he could cut ahead that he actually reached a finger out to tap the guy in front of him, when Louis suddenly appeared at his side.

“Didn’t realize it was a race,” he commented, “I guess you win, then.” He gave the queue a raise of his eyebrow. “Or maybe you didn’t.”

So Louis saw the queue too then. It wasn’t just Harry’s mind playing a sick and awful trick on him. He began stepping from foot to foot and blew out a slow breath as he tried to refrain from grabbing his cock anymore. 

“I’m absolutely gonna die,” he fretted dramatically, bending at the knees and then back up again. “I’m seriously going to explode. And then someone is going to have to come and clean up all my bloody, urine-flecked remains.” He turned his knees inwards and gripped his thighs.

“Well that’s a lovely image,” Louis griped. “If not a bit graphic.”

“It’s the truth,” Harry assured him. “Oh my god,” he bent forward again, the pressure in his abdomen too much for any one person to handle. “How can your body even make this much pee?”

“Well, downing a huge coke in the first twenty minutes of a movie could have something to do with it,” Louis reminded him. 

“Never again. You have to promise me: never let me get any drink whatsoever at the movies again. I can’t handle it obviously.”

“You can just have little sips of mine if you get thirsty, how about that?” Louis smiled.

“You’re sweet,” Harry hissed, closing his eyes as he squeezed his bent legs together. “But ooohhh let’s talk about something else.”

Louis cupped his hand to his mouth and whispered, “Again, you started it.”

Harry didn’t have the strength to point out that Louis actually started that one. Slowly, but steadily the line was moving and Harry took another step forward, squeezing with all his might as wee threatened to escape into his trousers. It didn’t matter how many times he’s found himself in this same situation, it always felt so much worse than any time before it.

He couldn’t stand still. As he waited, he bounced on his toes, shifted foot to foot, clasped his hands in front of himself; dangerously close to his groin. He was truly on the verge of explosion. 

Just as he swore he was going to piss all over the floor, he realized he was next in line. He quickly thanked every higher deity he could think of, praying they’d let him last just a little bit longer. But his strength was really starting to wear thin. He wasn’t always the best at holding it anyway, often finding himself so much more desperate than any of his mates. Take for instance Louis. He’d gotten a drink too, hadn’t he? But he wasn’t dancing around trying everything in his power to avoid wetting himself at a movie theater. Seriously, Harry really hated his life sometimes. 

As he waited in a panic for somebody to leave the toilet so he could get in, Harry crossed his legs and bit his lip so hard it went numb. He knew he must look ridiculous. 

He leaned back up, his face scrunched and tense, when someone finally exited the bathroom. As desperate as he was to get inside, suddenly Harry didn’t know how he was going to make it into a stall without weeing himself on the way. 

“It’s your turn, Haz, aren’t you gonna go?” Louis bumped his shoulder.

Harry gulped, “I’m trying.” He twisted his legs again. “I-I can’t move.”

Someone behind him coughed impatiently, and Harry gritted his teeth trying to get the urge under control so he could actually walk. 

Suddenly Louis took his elbow and said, “You can do it, love. Come on, I’ll help you.”

He tugged him gently and urged him through the door. That did it, as soon as he was in the bathroom, Harry broke away and rushed to the open stall at the end, slamming the door, his breath coming out in huffs.

On the verge of losing control, he struggled to get his zipper undone and dick out before pissing all over his clothes. Finally free, he aimed his cock at the toilet and dropped his head back with an audible sigh at the moment of release. Finally! 

God, he swore as the urine drained out of him like a waterfall; nothing else in the world topped this feeling. That moment of finally letting go after holding it so long and needing to go so bad. It felt better than anything else he could think of.

He must have pissed for three minutes straight before he finally felt his stream coming to an end. It felt like he just lost ten pounds. Flushing the toilet, he adjusted himself back into his pants and left the stall with another contended sigh.

Louis was waiting for him by the door, and he grinned when he saw him.

“Don’t forget to wash your hands,” he teased.

Harry stuck his tongue out at him, still coming back down from the high of peeing, and made his way over to the sinks. He was definitely filing this down as one of the best pees of his life.


	2. A Real Crowd Pleaser

It had started as a dull twinge; nothing serious, just something there in the back of his mind. Most likely brought on by the two; no make that three, cups of tea with breakfast. But it wasn’t a big deal. At first.

Then it progressed rather quickly into something a bit more noticeable, a bit more uncomfortable and Harry was reminded of the water he'd also downed before they’d set out that morning. He was sometimes careless when it came to things like that; drinking too much before going out, forgetting to use the loo first. For whatever reason, he just never seemed conscious on that sort of thing. Obviously a fault like that got him into unfortunate circumstances quite more often than he’d care to admit. 

Incredibly today however, he’d surprised even himself when he actually managed to remember to use the toilet before they headed out. Well okay, Liam had to remind him first. But only once. Or twice. Definitely not more than three times. 

Either way, when Harry got in the car, he figured he’d be good for most of the drive. Unfortunately, he had quite misjudged himself on that simple notion. And not once, which was bad enough, but twice. He was such a mess sometimes. 

Not even two hours into the drive he’d had to ask ( _plead actually; on his knees, hands clasped in prayer formation; threatening to pee all over the car if they didn’t pull over_ ) for a stop because he’d needed to wee so bad he thought he was going to burst. All the lads groaned of course; _what else is new, honestly?_ , but had still hopped out of the car anyway to follow Harry’s lead. Shouldn’t they be thanking him for such selfless acts of full-vehicle-bladder-relief? Even if the acts weren’t actually that selfless at all and he’d just seriously needed to wee so bad he didn’t care who else got to go or not, as long as he was first. But because he lives with the most ruthless lads there are (really, they’re not that bad), instead of clapping Harry on the back for his generosity at speaking up first, they displayed their gratitude by tripping him in his haste to get to the toilet, beating him inside and mockingly slamming the door in his face. One of these days Harry should really sit them all down and discuss the true meaning of the word, ‘friendship’. 

But basically, his whole brilliant plan of using the loo before leaving didn’t even matter anyway. He was still the first one to have to bring it up in the end. 

Which was currently the reason he was sitting here crammed between Niall and Louis in the backseat, his legs together as he tried to hold it instead of asking for another stop.  
This is when his thoughts had started to shift to how much liquid he’d stupidly consumed that morning. Too much tea, and obviously that water had been a mistake. Harry sighed. He really had to go again. Like, it was ridiculous. He didn’t understand it.  
   
He knew no one would be happy to hear they had to find another place to pull off so Harry could pee _again_ , and they were already seriously in danger of being late as it was. And not by a mere measure of slight tardiness either. None of that ‘fashionably late’ quota that manages to sound so elite that lost track of time is suddenly forgivable. They were going to be ‘singing to an empty crowd, with a few stragglers throwing tomatoes at their sorry asses’ kind of late. Their allotted performance slot was only so long, and if they missed it then this whole trip would be for nothing. 

Harry turned his knees together. All that water and tea inside him; it was going from uncomfortable to pressing.  

He was still unclear as to why they weren’t just taking the bus to the show they were currently burning rubber to make on time, but they’d been shuffled into this tiny car instead. Zayn didn’t even have his own seat that wasn’t a body part belonging to somebody else. Not to mention, Harry’s legs were much too long to be shoved in the middle of the backseat like this. He tried stretching them out, but with Louis’s and Niall’s on either side of him, plus an assortment of their half-opened luggage bags cluttering what was left of any open-floor space, it was next to impossible. Another reason he wouldn’t mind a second break. 

As he watched the passing trees and cars, he wished secretly that one of the other boys would ask to stop instead of him. But he knew they'd all used the opportunity to go the last time, and since none of them had been thick enough to drink their weight in breakfast, Harry figured the chances of that happening were virtually zero.   

Well if anything, he could at least try and figure out how much longer it would take to get to the event. If they were almost there it might ease his mind, and maybe if he was lucky, his bladder too. At least a little anyway. He turned his toes together, “Paul?”

From the driver’s seat, Paul squinted against the bright sunlight and said, “I don’t know, Harry,” without missing a beat. 

Pressing his thighs together along with his toes, Harry narrowed his eyes confusedly, “You don’t know what?”

“How much longer it’ll take to get there.” fussing with a map in his lap, Paul added, “These directions aren’t very clear. Unfortunately.” Then he quirked an eyebrow at Harry through the rearview mirror, “At least, that’s what I’m assuming you were going to ask, am I right?”

Harry fiddled with the hem of his shirt, “Well, actually I was going to ask if we were almost there - but I suppose it’s more or less the same thing.”

Louis reached to smack the back of Paul’s seat (which in effect, caused Paul to swerve the car a tad and Liam to shout, “ _Louis! Be careful. He’s driving, idiot!_ ”), and exclaimed, “You didn’t tell us you were a mind-reader!” Shaking out his composer, Louis closed his eyes, “What am I thinking right now?”

Paul sighed, turning over the next page of his map unenthusiastically, “You’re thinking…Paul is the coolest person in the entire world, and he drives us everywhere, buys us food, and does everything in his power to try and get us to gigs on time. We love Paul.”

Louis opened his eyes and frowned, “That’s actually not what I was thinking.” Sounding genuinely disappointed, he added, “Not even close.” He then leaned over to whisper in Harry’s ear, “Should we give him the boot, you think? Clearly he’s not as masterful as we give him credit for.”

“Clearly you’re not as quiety-whispery as you give yourselves credit for, either,” Paul hissed back playfully.

“Quiety-whispery?” Louis frowned. “Alright Higgins; that’s strike two, now.”

Zayn and Liam giggled from the front seat, where they were basically sitting on top of one another, but Harry was finding it difficult to join along with the banter. Not only because he had to wee again, but he was seriously cramped back here, and his bum and back were hurting from sitting so long. Also, Niall had fallen asleep and decided that Harry’s shoulder would make the perfect makeshift pillow. This would have been cute any other time, but Harry was pretty positive he could feel drool on his sleeve. 

While the boys continued to goof on Paul, Harry decided he had bigger concerns that needed to be addressed. He interrupted as he hissed slightly, “So you really don’t know how much longer?” 

The car had just hit a slight bump, and the jolt of it was enough to cause Harry to clasp his eyes shut and run uneasy fingers along his thighs.

Paul glanced at him again, but before he could reply, Zayn suddenly frowned, “How many songs are we doing again?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Paul’s glance shifted from Harry to Zayn with an unmistakable eye of exasperation. 

Scratching his chin, Zayn scrunched his eyebrows thoughtfully, “I think it’s three. Is it three?”

“Yes, Zayn,” Paul sighed, evidently relieved. “It’s three. In fact, you bring up a good point,” he continued. “Let’s go over the set one more time so that; for at least my own sanity, I know everyone’s clear on what we’re doing.” Then as an afterthought, he mumbled loud enough to be heard, “Despite that fact that we’ve not only been through it four times at breakfast, but you also rehearsed it last night. Twice.”

Beside Harry, Louis was mouthing along, pulling mocking faces as Paul continued his speech. It was silly enough that even Harry found himself grinning slightly, happy to ignore his pounding bladder for a minute. 

“First up,” Paul continued. “--Please tell me someone remembers the first song at least.”  
“Oh, oh - I know!” Liam raised his hand like a student in class. “ _Live While We’re Young_ , isn’t it?”

“Good,” Paul sighed. “Next one - Harry?”

Harry blew out a breath as he tried not to wiggle too noticeably in his seat. Louis was still making faces and Harry chuckled slightly as he answered with, “ _Little Things_.”

“Excellent. I’m glad I don’t have to admit that you boys had me seriously worried for a minute there. Ok, and last song then - anyone?”

“I think if Niall were awake, he would say, ‘ _What Makes You Beautiful_?’” Zayn crossed his fingers, relishing the fact that if he were wrong, it’d be Niall’s fault and not his. He was so clever sometimes.

Obviously relieved that the band at least seemed to be on the same planet as he was, Paul actually smiled; sort of, “If Niall were awake, he would be right.” But his sort–of-smile was quickly replaced with another worried glance at Louis, “You got it, Lou?”

“Oh sure,” Louis nodded, readily ticking off his fingers. “Something, something else, and then that other one.”

Harry laughed a little as he tapped his foot twitchily, but Liam rolled his eyes and said, “He’s got it.”

His attention back on the road once more, Paul mumbled, “I swear to god, I don’t get paid enough for this…” 

“Aww, we love you too, Paul,” Zayn cooed, reaching to pinch his cheek.

Seemingly never-ending miles dragged on, and Harry felt himself becoming more and more restless. Niall had finally woken up a little, and while he was still leaning against Harry’s shoulder, he’d at least stopped using his shirt as some sort of cloth-spittoon.

Scrunching up his face, Harry kicked his legs out then brought them back. He did it again. Then he sighed. Nothing was working. His bladder was steadily becoming all he could think about. That water had definitely been a mistake. It all had been a mistake. Anything that involved liquid consumption paired with Harry’s bladder was a mistake.

Even Louis’s leg brushing up against his own wasn’t enough of a distraction for him. He tried looking out the window again, but there wasn’t anything to look at so he stopped relying on that either.

Maybe if he could fall asleep until they got there, then he wouldn’t have to sit here trying to deal with his full bladder. It was worth a shot anyway. Tipping his head against Niall’s, he closed his eyes and focused on falling asleep, hoping he would snore loud enough to get Niall back for drooling on his shirt. 

But five seemingly endless minutes later, Harry was nowhere near asleep. And he didn’t know what road they’d just turned down, but if there was a bump within fifty feet of another one, Paul was making it his day’s mission to find them. He squeezed his legs and shut his eyes determinedly. 

Uncomfortably, Harry crossed his arms and tried twisting his legs so they were pressing up against his dick. He was half on his side, hunching against Niall with his bum pressing up against Louis’s thighs. It was so tight back here that it was the best he could do.

About another ten hopeless minutes later, Harry accepted defeat on his second brilliant plan of the day.  There was just no sleeping when he had to pee like this. It just wasn’t happening. Plus, this half-lying position he was in was only stretching his bladder even more uncomfortably. And that was the last thing he needed.

Tensely, he shifted back up into his original sitting position and started lightly bringing his legs together and then back out again. It was clear they weren’t there or even close to it if the desolate landscape and Paul’s comically narrowed eyebrows were anything to go by. Besides Harry thought as he felt wee slosh painfully around inside him; sometimes you just had to go again. And he really had to go again.

Gripping his thighs, he hissed, “I don’t know where we are, but I need us to figure it out and be almost there cause I really gotta go to the toilet.”

From the front seat, Liam raised an accusing eyebrow at him, “Weren’t you the same one that just made us stop ten minutes ago?”

“You always have to go to the toilet, Harry,” Niall grumbled at almost the same time, adjusting his position against him and jarring Harry uncomfortably.

“Shut up,” Harry pouted, not at all surprised by the reaction he was receiving, but still feeling a tinge of embarrassment anyway. “I just drank too much water earlier. And no Liam,” he added. “It wasn’t ten minutes ago.”

“Sorry,” Liam corrected himself. “Eleven.”

“Just try to hang in there for now, Harry,” Paul told him, veering off an exit and onto another highway. “It shouldn’t be too long now.”

“Famous last words,” Zayn pointed out. 

Paul shook his head disapprovingly, “Keep helping the situation there, Zayn.”

Harry was about to protest that he would kindly stop for any of them if they needed him to, so why couldn’t he receive the same kind of treatment, when Louis suddenly interjected, “We should just stop somewhere so Harry can pee.” Harry sat up eagerly, nodding his head in definite agreement. “…And so I can get food. I’m hungry,” Louis concluded.

Niall lifted off Harry’s shoulder, suddenly eager as well. But Paul just shook his head.  
“We don’t have time guys,” he said, slightly anxious. “You’re seriously going to be late. And we already had lunch on the way.”

“Yeah, a _waaay_ long time ago,” Louis argued. “Aren’t you the one that’s constantly telling us we need to keep up our strength? What better way than with greasy helpings of fast food slop that has absolutely no nutritional value whatsoever?”

“Great, now I’m even more hungry…” Niall groaned.

Paul started reaching for the radio dial to drown them out, but Zayn slapped his hand away.

“Nah uh, you lost that privilege when you didn’t check to make sure we got extra napkins at that last McDonalds. Even though we all reminded you seven times.”

Harry sighed and tapped his foot against the floor, trying to come up with some kind of plea or bargain that Paul would settle on so he would stop and let Harry pee. What was so harmful in that anyway? They were already going to be late. That was obvious.

A minute later, Niall was apparently thinking along the same scheming-lines as Harry, and he pouted, fluttering his eyelashes at Paul, “We don’t even have time to stop for a quick cheeseburger?” 

Harry decided Niall’s argument was as good as any, and went along with it too. 

“Or a quick wee?” he added anxiously, leaning forward in his seat. “I can be quick.”

“Harry, your ‘wee-plea’ is not only irrelevant, but completely interfering with our incredibly more imperative ‘food request’,” Louis informed him. “Don’t confuse Paul. He’s already starting to turn that perfectly delicate shade of pink,” he added with a grin. “Just focus on the plan at hand, Harold.”

“I don’t know or care what the ‘plan at hand’ is,” Harry hissed, squirming his bum against the seat. “But all mine involves is getting out and as far away from this backseat as possible, and finding a loo. Besides; I said I needed a wee before the notion of food was even brought up,” he reminded, jiggling his leg. 

“Ahh yes, the habitual pre-performance row,” Zayn rubbed his hands together. “Bets, Liam?”

“Well,” Liam contemplated, rubbing at his chin, “my money was on Louis, but I have to say that Hazza does bring up a good point. What about you, Zayn?”

“Louis,” Zayn nodded. “The last time we stopped was for Harry. We haven’t stopped for food in too long.”

“Why don’t you all stop placing bets on one another, and start realizing how late we -   _you_ are going to be for this show,” Paul interrupted, discarding the map and fussing about with the GPS now. “Besides, do any of you even see anywhere to stop?” He shrugged at their bleak surroundings. “Come on you guys, focus. You can eat later. And Harry, you can pee when we get there. You’ll be fine. But we have to get there first, is the whole point.”

“Well, when will that be?” Harry banged his legs restlessly, leaning back uncomfortably in his seat. “Cause I seriously need the loo over here. I’m not kidding.”

“Only a little while. Just hold on until then.”

 _Just hold on until then._ Even Paul was useless. It’s honestly not like Harry wouldn’t stop for any of them. On second thought, maybe he won’t from now on. Sheesh.

“ _I’m not kidding_ ,” Louis teased mockingly, reaching over to jab his finger right at Harry’s lower stomach.

With a gasp, Harry jolted forward and grimaced loudly, squeezing his legs tight. Fuck, now he remembered why he always waited so long to say anything; the taunting was enough to make anyone hold it in their own silent struggle. 

“Why’d you do that?” he groaned, leaning back up and clenching his hands in fists. His bladder was starting to strain from the fullness. It was like no matter which position he angled or positioned himself, all he could feel was this aching and expanded weight pulsing beneath his belt.

Louis had watched his reaction with a bemused look on his face, “Guess he’s not lying, anyway,” he concluded.  

“You don’t say?” Harry grumbled. “Between me mentioning it no less than thirty times, in addition to asking; so politely, I might add, if we can just stop for one tiny second, I can’t possibly imagine what gave me away, Louis.” He exaggerated, wriggling his hips and grinding himself against the seat, Harry clasped his hands tightly in his lap. 

“Now, now princess,” Louis patted the top of his head. “Remember that little cupcake I woke up to this morning? Where did he go, huh?”

Crossing his legs at the ankles, Harry pressed a quick hand to his crotch and said, “That little ‘cupcake’ is shoved back here between one person drooling on his shoulder, and the other one poking him right in the stomach even though they know he has to pee. And no one making any attempts to find somewhere to pull off so he doesn’t have to die from bladder explosion.” Harry finished, squeezing his still crossed legs.

As he waited for whatever comeback Louis was quickly working on, Harry glanced anxiously at his watch for the first time that morning. They really were going to be late. His bladder trembled inside him, and he tried adjusting his legs again. Stretching them out proved impossible now since all the other times he’d done it he’d managed to drag their belongings all over the floor leaving his feet no space but a tiny square right in front of him. He was seriously dying to get out of this bloody car. 

“Paul,” Harry bit his lip and ignored Paul’s audible groan as he continued, “When you say ‘we’ll be there in a while’, what exactly is your definition of ‘a while’?”

Reaching again for his map, Paul tossed his mobile to Liam, along with a verbal set of instructions to let the venue know of their current situation, before he finally mumbled, “Soon,” to Harry, who was shaking his legs impatiently. 

Not good enough. “Okay. And how soon is ‘soon’?” he pressed.

Apparently unable to decide on a respectable retort to his and Harry’s previous bickering, Louis instead clapped his hands together excitedly, “Oh, I love twenty questions. Can I guess?”

“No,” Paul deadpanned. “You may not. Why don’t you boys work on some vocal reps, yeah? We clearly won’t have any rehearsal time when we get there. And I promise,” he added with a glance at Harry, “it’s not too long now.”

As Harry moaned to himself, and shoved his hands under his thighs; helping to push them closer together as subtly as he could, Louis was suddenly clearing his throat unnecessarily loudly as he began to sing, “We’re on the road, driving to a show-o,” he had apparently taken the ‘vocal reps’ thing to heart and had even adopted the beginning melody of _Little Things_ to show he was serious about his work. “How much longer that will take, no one really knows. But I’m sitting here starving cause Paul won’t let us eat. And Harry needs to weee -”

“On second thought,” Paul decided. “Just sit there quietly.”

Not entirely sure what to make of Louis’s rendition, Harry settled on raising a bemused eyebrow while Louis flashed him a grin, reaching over to pinch one of Harry’s cheeks. Helplessly, Harry cracked a small smile. He didn’t know how he did it, but Louis always managed to make him smile, even despite the current situation. 

That is, until Paul slammed the brakes so hard at a random stoplight that Harry was jolted forward, causing the liquid in his bladder to slosh around like unset jello.  
   
“Oohhhhmmmpff!” he cried out, squeezing both his eyes and legs tightly.

“Well Jesus,” Paul winced. “That stoplight came out of bloody nowhere, didn’t it?” He shifted gears and was back to speeding down the lane once again, and Harry just knew the only reason that light had been there was purely to torture him. Just so the seatbelt he was wearing would be forced to dig in and tighten right over his straining bladder.

“Alright babe?” Louis asked him, frowning slightly at the obvious look of discomfort on Harry’s face.

That was seriously debatable at this point. Leaning back up cautiously, Harry chewed at his lip. Not even attempting to relax his legs, he pressed his toes into the floor.

“Fine,” he insisted. “I just wish I didn’t need to wee so bad.”

Tugging playfully at one of Harry’s curls, Louis said, “I know. Not too long though,” and leaned his head against him.

Well, Harry wasn’t exactly sure what definition of ‘ _not too long_ ’ the others were all going off of, but twenty minutes later and it was seeming more like ‘ _way too long_ ’ in his honest opinion. Niall had once again fallen asleep on his shoulder, and now Louis was starting to drift off against him too. They’d all had to get up extremely early (‘ _fucking ridiculously early as shit,_ ’ as Niall had put it), and Harry didn’t want to wake them. But it was becoming extremely difficult to resist squirming around. Actually, not even difficult. It was impossible. 

His bladder was absolutely aching now, and he squirmed around lightly, trying to find a position that would take some of the pressure off. Fat chance. He should have known no one was going to stop for him. 

Sinking into his seat, he jiggled his leg and made a mental promise to himself that since you apparently weren’t allowed to make more than one pee stop during a trip, then that’s all he would ever allow of anyone else either. If someone had to go again it was just going to be too bad for them, wasn’t it? And then he sunk down even lower and grumbled at himself because yeah right; he knew he could never actually do that.

Huffing out a breath, he brought his legs forward from where they were cramped half-under the front seats, and arched his back slightly, attempting to stick his stomach out and relieve the pressure that way. He wasn’t sure why this method worked, but it seemed to give that agonizing ball of liquid more room to spread out, and made him feel not so achingly full at least.

But he could only sit like that for a few minutes before his back starting hurting and he had to lean back down again. As he did, he stretched his legs back out and then tried to shift as carefully as he could and somehow find a way to cross his right leg over his left. His knee knocked against Louis as he struggled to extract it from next to him. Then once he’d finally managed that, he had to twist his body into an angle that would actually allow him to lift it up enough to cross it. He bumped into both Niall and Louis in the process. 

“Mmm, sit still,” Louis grumbled, as Harry finally got himself situated. “’M trying to sleep.”

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled, folding his arms and blowing out a distressed breath. Even tangling himself up like this wasn’t helping any. He tapped the crossed leg restively before shifting on his bum a bit more.

Sleepily, Louis squinted at Harry’s restless form and said, “You still need a wee?”

“No Louis,” Harry rolled his eyes, squeezing his legs tighter. “It just magically went away. I can’t believe it either.” 

“That’s great,” Louis nodded, adjusting himself once again against Harry’s shoulder to fall back asleep. “Keep me posted.”

“Yeah, you’ll be the first to know,” Harry mumbled. Christ, he seriously needed a bloody toilet already. This was starting to cross the line now. The rattling and jerking of the car were sending constant vibrations through Harry’s bladder. Not even the passing scenery; which was quite lovely out here, could hold his focus for very long. 

“Uh, excuse me!?” he hissed up front, shaking his crossed legs.

“I know, I know,” Paul said, shifting off another exit. “We’re almost there. Just hang on.”

“You keep saying that,” Harry reminded him. “Sorry, I don’t believe you anymore. Now find me a toilet. We’re already gonna be late anyway, so what’s it matter?”

“What’s it matter? I swear, everyday you boys make it more and more impossible for me to tell whether or not you’re joking,” Paul gripped the steering wheel heatedly, and not even Harry could help the small smirk working onto his face as the color on Paul’s’ neck went from peach, to pink, to red.

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry assured him. “Either we hold everyone up now, or we hold them up when we get there and I go to the loo then. So see, we’re not going to make it either way. At least I’m not,” he added quietly. 

“Hazza,” Niall whined beside him, “shush. Sleeping.” He shifted to cuddle up even closer, and while any other time it would have been adorable, right now it was just causing Harry even more discomfort. 

He winced, and forgetting to be subtle with his movements, uncrossed his legs again which caused the other two to have to shift around as well as he brought his leg back down. He shifted himself more towards Louis now, trying unsuccessfully to lessen the constant, inescapable pressure that way. Niall groaned some more and Louis just gave up leaning against Harry altogether, turning towards the stationary comfort of his window instead.

Finally, as he settled for crossing his arms, and swinging his legs back and forth, inadvertently bumping into both Niall and Louis anyway, Harry grimaced, “You know what needing a wee’s like, Nail File.”

Niall laughed at the nickname and closed his eyes again, “It’s not fun, you’re right,” he agreed. 

“Now that that’s been established,” Louis interrupted, “shut up so I can sleep.”

“Better yet, how about we get to a toilet so I can wee,” Harry countered, gripping his thighs edgily. He leaned forward and then back again. God, his bladder was fucking full. He wanted to promise himself that he’d never drink anything before any car trip of any distance ever again, but he knew as soon as he was finally able to pee and relieve this throbbing pressure, that he’d completely forget telling himself that and just do it all again the next time. It was pointless.

Liam broke his thoughts as he added, “How about everyone just calms down a little, and we go back to convincing Paul to let us eat somewhere.”

“I’m with Liam,” Zayn agreed.

“Well, you’re in luck,” Paul announced, “since we’re here and they probably have a snack table set out. Of course,” he checked his watch with a wince, “there’s no time for anything before you guys are onstage.” 

‘Wait, _here?_ ” Harry leaned up in his seat, and glanced anxiously out the window. But as Paul pulled into the lot, he hit one of those speed bumps a little too fast and it made Harry squeeze his eyes and wince out loud. “…Did you say we’re here?” he choked out, leaning forward in his seat, banging his legs. 

“They do listen,” Paul commented. “Imagine that.”

Yes, Harry had heard right. The lot was completely packed with both cars and people, but Paul managed to weave their way around everyone and to their designated parking space by the stage. As he bounced in his seat beyond ready to jump out, Harry could see a group of stage crew; each with headphones and concerned looks, checking their watches and tapping their feet impatiently. Quickly, Harry glanced at the clock blinking at him from the front seat. They were so late.

He was banging his leg against Louis’s as he waited anxiously for Paul to finally park the car. Before they’d even stopped however, the stage crew spotted them and a group was suddenly rushing over, holding down buttons on their headphones and speaking quickly. Harry had been expecting Louis to open the door, but instead a crew member reached it first and pulled it open.

“About time lads. You’ve got more than a screaming crowd out here. We gotta move.” He hurriedly ushered them from the car, waving other staff over to help out.

As soon as he was out of the door, Harry was stepping foot to foot, biting his lip and glancing anxiously towards the stage set out for them. It was fairly small, but at the same time they were only performing three songs. 

But that wasn’t anywhere near his main concern at the moment. He’d been hoping there might be some of those porta-potties set out near the stage for them. Sure they might be gross, but he had to go and he was the first to accept; beggars can’t be choosers.

Unfortunately however, he didn’t spot any of those. But he did catch sight of the tiny building beside the stage that Harry figured was their dressing room of some sort. It was all he could see and if that didn’t have a bathroom in it, then this crowd was in for way more of a show than they bargained for. That was certain.

Bouncing up and down on his toes as he tried to resist running off on his own, he didn’t know what was taking everyone else so long. Paul was talking with one of the crew members, while Liam and Niall were still reaching for who-knows-what in the car. 

Harry couldn’t wait anymore. He turned to Louis standing beside him with his arms crossed as he waited for the others. 

“I’m going to the toilet,” Harry told him. 

Without waiting for a reply, he started taking a step forward when a staff member he hadn’t even realized was there, held out an arm to stop him.

“Hang on there, mate,” he said. “We gotta keep you guys together.”

“I just need to—“ Harry tried to say, but the guy had stopped listening, his attention back at his headphones with his arm still keeping Harry in place.

As Harry once again tried to escape, suddenly the guy’s hand was wrapping tighter, silently halting him as he finally said, “Ok, the stage is all set – we gotta get you guys up there.”

Before he could protest, Harry’s arm was being tugged along with Louis, and several crew members were ruffling at their hair; spraying hairspray into the wind, tangling brushes into their scalps, and even pulling Harry’s current jacket off to replace with another.  
“Hey, excuse me-“ he tried to say, but no one was listening. 

He glanced anxiously to Louis, who looked just as annoyed as a different shade of the same shirt he was already wearing was being shoved under his chin for inspection.

“Christ, we’re so late guys,” Paul muttered, jabbing hurriedly at his phone, and ushering Niall, Liam, and Zayn along. “Forget the shirt,” he swung his fingers across his neck in a slicing motion to the staffer currently attempting to unbutton Louis’s collar. “He’s fine. We don’t have time. Shit, you guys need to be onstage. Now, like right now.”

“Wait!” Harry whimpered, trying to redirect to the side building, but there were currently hands everywhere, tugging and urging him this way and that. “Wait - I need the loo first!” He tried to explain desperately. But no one was listening. Not even Louis who was still struggling with the determined, and possibly deaf, staff member. 

Niall was attempting to fit mini plugs into his ear, while Zayn was eyeing the screaming crowd with a nervous chew of his lip. Liam was smoothing out the invisible wrinkles of his t-shirt, and finally Louis snapped, “If you don’t get that bloody piece of clothing away from me then your tombstone will no doubt share the same inscription as those washing directions: ‘Wrung once, wrung twice, hung to dry’.”

Someone was fixing to work at Harry’s hair again, and Harry frantically tried to shake them off, stumbling again towards the building.

“Harry, we don’t have time!” Paul took his arm, and pulled him back, jostling his bladder and making Harry wince.

“But I need to wee! I really, really—“

But again, Paul wasn’t listening. God, no one ever listens to him! No wonder Harry always ends up in these types of situations. Oblivious to not only Harry’s current dilemma, but also the way he was digging his nails into Paul’s arm in a failing attempt to dislodge his grip on him, Paul continued leading him towards the stage and farther and further from his potential relief.  Fuck, this was not happening. 

“Harry, you gotta be onstage,” Paul reminded, finally managing to shake away Harry’s scratching.  Half listening to the person chattering away on the other line of his mobile, Paul kept glancing back to make sure the other boys were being lead to the stage as well. He counted them out loud, “One, two, three…okay we’re good. Get up there!” 

He practically flung Harry onstage, and as the other lads followed, all Harry could think of was there was no way in hell he was making it through this set without weeing himself! He had to find a way to get someone’s attention and stall for just a second longer. 

Oh fuck, he was in such trouble. He’d performed needing to wee plenty of times before, but it didn’t matter. He had to go so bad right now, he couldn’t even remember what he’d done to hold it all those other times. The only thing he knew would help was getting to a toilet.  

Before he could manage to snag anyone’s attention however, a microphone was shoved into his hand, his hair was ruffled once more, and the curtain blowing in the breeze blocking them from view was falling down, revealing not only them, but also thousands of screaming fans on the other side. Despite it all, Harry still tried desperately to get Paul’s attention.  

“Paul!” He hissed, bending at the knees, half crossing his legs and almost dropping the microphone from his sweaty grip. “Paul!”

Busy checking something with another crew member, Paul glanced up haphazardly at his name, “Huh? Harry? What – what do you need?”

Jesus, were his problems not important to anyone? Harry crossed his legs fully, barely managing to resist gripping his dick and whimpered, “I have to go to the toilet!”

Furrowing his brows, Paul’s face finally took on a look of exasperated recollection, and he seemed to actually recall that Harry had mentioned something along those lines at least once or twice. But short on sympathy and anything other than their tight schedule, Paul just waved him off again, “It’s three songs, Harry. Just wait.” He then pointed anxiously behind him, “Turn around, the curtain’s down!”

Now completely stressed, Harry looked out to the crowd of screaming, cheering fans and he immediately began to panic. Almost simultaneously, the beginning chords to _Live While We’re Young_ kicked in, and Liam started the verse. 

Biting his lip and feeling sweat start to drip down his face, Harry stood with his legs as possibly close together as he could make them, clasping his hands down in front of himself. His bladder was fucking pulsating. 

A couple seconds later, Louis scooted over to him and bumped his shoulder warningly. Absolutely not in the mood to be knocked around right now, Harry turned to him with his teeth grit in an open-mouthed grimace.

He shook his head as if to say, ‘ _What?? What the hell do you want? Can’t you tell I’m trying not to completely piss myself in front of an entire crowd of people? What is it that’s so bloody important?_ ’. But then Louis nodded at his mic deliberately, giving Harry an impatient gesture with his hands and Harry suddenly remembered; on top of trying not to wet himself, he also had to sing! Oh god, he couldn’t do this. 

Without a second to spare, he raised the mic to his lips and whimpered out his part. His voice was shaking in time with his legs and he tried to clear his throat to get himself back in control and focused.

‘ _It’s three songs, Harry._ ’ Paul’s words repeated themselves in his head. If he could think more clearly, more logically, more calmly; then he would have tried to reason with himself that Paul was right. Harry’d had to pee plenty of times on stage, but he always managed to make it in the end, didn’t he? Shit, he couldn’t do this. He had to go so bad he was practically bursting. 

During the chorus, he shamelessly let the other boys take charge as his voice drifted lower and lower until it was barely even a whisper. He didn’t have a choice; if he put any more pressure on his bladder he was going to flat out wee himself up here. And that just shouldn’t be something someone in a world-famous boyband should have to worry about. But it was! Right now, it was all he was worrying about. 

When Zayn took over the next verse, Harry bounced at his knees, legs squeezing together each time he bent down, and he was suddenly thankful for the small fact that he quite often stood with his legs pretty close together anyway, and maybe no one would think anything of it. Niall or Louis would be more noticeable than him; the way they always stood with their legs spread apart. At least he hoped so.

But he was more even thankful than that that his solos were so limited in this particular song.  He was honestly terrified that he was going to start singing about ‘pee’ or ‘toilets’ or ‘his bladder’ because they were all he could clearly think about.

When the song finished, the crowd still cheered with applause and Harry took that as a good sign at least. He could feel the urine pulsing inside him as the music for _Little Things_ started up next and the other boys took a seat at the edge of the stage. But Harry could only whimper and try not to dance around like a lunatic as he shimmied his hips back and forth. _’Need a wee, need a wee, need a fucking wee!’_ He shifted feet. A second later he did it again. _’I need to fucking wee now!”_

It was obvious his dancing wasn’t in tune with the music; even less than usual. All his hip shaking, step to step footing, and leaning forward and back were only in time with the rhythmatic beating of his bladder. Plus, he was even more awkward since he was the only one still standing, looking clueless, while all the others were giving him odd and confused glances from the edge of the stage.

Harry spun around, risking a small squeeze of his cock despite all the crew members and staff that could clearly be seen from backstage. He absolutely couldn’t take it. But when he opened his eyes, no one was watching him anyway. They were too busy fussing with soundboards and intertwining wires to care about anything actually going on onstage. Harry spotted Paul standing off to the side, still within vocal distance, so Harry hurriedly cupped his mouth, legs bent and banging together as he shouted for him.

Paul heard and glanced around confusedly before he spotted Harry shuffling towards him.  
“Harry – what are you doing? Get back out there!”

“Paul, I so need the toilet,” he insisted. “I’m about to wee my pants!”

“This is not the bloody time,” Paul grabbed his hand and started urging him back towards the stage. “There haven’t even been any loos set up back here yet.”

Frantically, Harry tried to wedge himself free of Paul’s tight hold. He half stumbled back up the steps of the stage as he attempted to walk and cross his legs at the same time. Hopelessly, he looked over his shoulder and pointed.

“What about that building right there? I’ll be quick, I promise!”

“It’s too far. You need to get up there. You have a solo coming up.” And without waiting for Harry to protest anymore, he forced him back center stage, and Harry was left feeling the absolute worst he’d ever felt in his life. The fact he felt like this every other time he was dying to pee was besides the point. He was sure this was the worst by a mile. 

Louis was eyeing him incredulously, and even Niall had abandoned his usual fit of hysterias to quirk an eyebrow up instead. 

“What are you doing, Harry?” Zayn hissed into his ear, under the pretense of grabbing a water bottle as Harry slipped down between him and Louis.

Harry squeezed his legs so tightly they rose a few inches off the edge of the stage, “I need the toilet! God, doesn’t anyone ever listen to me?”

“You can’t just leave the stage, mate,” Zayn waved a hand at the roaring crowd. “You know at least 70% of them are here to see you.”

“Not after today, they won’t be,” Harry moaned, crossing his legs now. “Not after the hurricane that’s about to drench this entire place. I wonder how many will want to see me, or any of us, ever again after that.” God, he was panicking. He wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead.

“Hey whoa, chill out, Haz,” Zayn rested a hand on his shoulder. “That was quite an analogy, but honestly, you’re going to be fine. It’s only one song after this. Alright? Just hold tight ‘til then.”

“You’ve needed to wee onstage before though, haven’t you?” Louis was suddenly whispering into his other ear, but with a frown of concern on his face. Well it was about time a little sympathy was directed his way for once, Harry thought. 

He bent forward, grinding and rocking against the edge of the stage. “Not this bad,” he shook his head, huffing out his breath. He swore, when he looked down, he could see his bladder sticking out past his waistband. 

As Harry fought to hold it back, Louis rubbed his shoulder soothingly.

“Listen,” he said. “If you have to wee your pants, we promise we won’t say anything,” he nodded thoughtfully. “I know I’m probably not the most reliable person to try and get you to trust that. But it’s true. I’ve been there – we’ve all been there. Lucky you have dark trousers on.” He tried to lighten the situation with a grin, but Harry just looked at him incredulously.

“Do you seriously think I’m going to let myself piss my pants on stage!?” he hissed, his knees turned so close together that it was becoming painful. 

“Well, I don’t know,” Zayn shrugged. “You’re the one warning us about hurricanes and drenched arenas. We’re just trying to help.”

“I know, I know,” Harry mumbled, rocking forward once more before leaning back up unsteadily. “I can’t get up though.” They had some arrangement where they were to huddle together on steps set out further back on the stage; Niall and Liam were already waiting, but Harry was trying desperately not to squeeze and grip his cock as powerful urge after powerful urge struck him one after another. 

“We’ll just stay here then,” Louis assured him, waving quickly for Niall and Liam to come over as well.

Louis started singing as Harry fought to find some sort of composure, at least enough to sing his solo.

“You alright, Harry?” Niall whispered as he leaned down beside him.

Harry shook his head, his cheeks were flushed and his thighs were squeezing so tight together that they were sliding up and over one another. He didn’t know how he was going to do this. And they still had another song after this!

Jaw tense, he managed to stumble through his verse, his eyes squeezed tight the whole time, and wiggling his hips like mad against the floor. He could feel wee on the verge of pulsing out. 

The rest of the song was more or less a blur to Harry as all he could concentrate on was figuring out how to keep his pee inside and not all over himself. How can that be so hard?

When the chords to _What Makes You Beautiful_ were struck, Harry had one hand firmly on his crotch as he let Louis help him up into a shaky, but at least standing position.

He bent forward against the strain; he couldn’t even stand up straight anymore. His bladder was absolutely full to the brim. 

He sung his first verse with his back to the audience because he was too afraid to let go of his cock at this point. If he did, then no doubt piss would start gushing out of him, toilet or no toilet.

When he finally managed to let himself go, his legs were practically glued together as he tried to half-spin, half-waddle back around to face the crowd; his only saving grace being that his band was at least unpredictable enough at times that hopefully his strange stance wouldn’t raise any many suspicious eyebrows than usual.

Clenching his hands into fists, he bounced on his toes, trying to force his thighs tight enough together that he wouldn’t feel so close to actually exploding. Not that that was even avoidable at this point. Then he started to worry; was it actually possible to burst your bladder from holding it too long? Well if it was, he was about to find out then, wasn’t he?

Louis nudged him again, making Harry wince out loud, scrunch his face and twist slightly to the side.

“What?” He hissed, edgily.

Louis nodded his head towards the others who were already in their obligatory positions for Harry’s solo. Oh shit. How was he going to get himself over there? All he could do was that ridiculous waddle thing he’d just attempted and his solo would be done two times over before he got there in time. Instead, he shook his head and motioned quickly for the other boys to come over there instead.

Zayn tugged the others and they all hurried over, taking their positions on this side of the stage instead. The crowd ‘ohhhhed and awwwed’ in admiration of their little unexpected stunt.  
It was the worst solo of Harry’s life; well it didn’t start out that bad. Just shaky. Really, really shaky. His voice, his legs, his hips. All shaky. But somewhere in the middle, he felt the wetness start seeping into his pants. He was losing control. Squeezing his legs so tight that he crossed them, he stumbled over his words before he completely froze on the spot.

Oh shit. This wasn’t happening. This could absolutely not be happening. But it was; he was weeing. Onstage. On himself! And not just a little; it was coming out in long gushes that streamed in warm jets down his legs. 

With a strangled squeak, he dropped his microphone where it bounced on the ground with a banging clunk, and Harry tried to dash, although he could only manage a quick shuffle towards the stairs backstage. The whole time piss leaking uncontrollably into his hands that were gripping his cock as tightly as he could. 

“Oh my god, fuck, fuck, fuck - no this is not happening!” He cried, straining uselessly to stop himself, but it continued to stream through his fingers. His pants were sticking to his thighs as it drenched in waterfalls down his legs.

It had to be a nightmare. There was so absolutely no way he could have actually let this happen. He was only distantly aware of Paul, the other crew members, Louis, Niall, and anyone else who might have been following him. All he was focused on was that fucking building near the other side of the stage. Even if it didn’t have a toilet at least not everyone in the country would see him pee his pants like this.

When he reached the door, he pulled it, but it didn’t open. Jumping from foot to foot, he let go of his crotch, twisting and squeezing his legs as he used both hands to wedge open the door. But it wouldn’t budge. It was stuck.

“Fuck, no. Please, please, open!” In desperation, he kicked out hard, finally hearing the door creak open a crack, but it was too late. 

Harry bent all the way over, pee spilling down his legs, creating a hissing puddle on the ground where he stood. Tears had started to blur his vision, both from humiliation and the aching pain he’d been enduring for so long. Too long. 

It was hard to even find the strength to realize how amazingly wonderful it actually felt to finally let go, because it was all just too mortifying. This just did not happen to ordinary people. Clearly something was wrong with him. He felt disgusting as he stood there, abandoning all failed attempts at trying to hold it back now. 

With a strangled whimper, he bravely stood back up. His crotch and legs were completely soaked through. He let the last of the urine drain out of him, before he craned his neck and saw the other lads hurrying towards him.

Harry raced into the building, found the small bathroom that was no less than twenty feet away from where he just completely pissed himself, and ran inside, slamming the door shut. No one could see him like this. He would never be able to live this down. Ever. He’d never be able to perform again, or better yet; he’d never be asked to perform again. His entire life was completely fucked. At least, that’s how it felt anyway.

There was a soft rapping on the door before Louis’s voice called, “Harry?”

“Can we come in?” Zayn added, sounding worried.

“No,” Harry whimpered. He looked at his dismal appearance in the mirror and shook his head, “Don’t come in.”

“What happened?” Louis tried instead. “Did you…”

But Harry knew he knew. They all knew.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Please leave me alone. Please?” Harry wiped a tear from his eye, and started unbuttoning his sopping pants.

“Alright lad, we’ll just wait out here until you’re ready to come out,” Niall concluded.  
Well, if that was the case, then they’d be waiting a long time. Because as far as Harry knew, he was never coming back out for the rest of his pathetic life. 

Striping down to his underwear, Harry kicked his wet pants in a pile off to the corner. The bathroom was too small to contain a shower, but he found some paper towels and used them to try and dry himself off some. Then he used some soap to clean his legs a little bit. He realized he didn’t have anything to change back into though. 

He stayed in there for a while longer, trying to calm himself back down. But he knew he couldn’t really stay in here forever, and there was no point in hiding; it was clear what had happened.

With a resigned sigh, he clicked the lock and slowly stepped out. Niall, Zayn, Liam, and Louis were all sitting on the ground next to the door, and when it opened, they all jumped up and looked him up and down.

“You alright?” Louis asked, wrapping hesitant arms around him.

“Am I out of the band, then?” Harry let his weight fall into Louis, causing Louis to wrap him up even tighter.

“Out of the band?” he shook his head. “Cause of a little wee? Harry don’t be silly.”

“That was definitely not a _little_ wee,” Harry corrected. “More like a tsunami-wee. A tidal wave-wee. Somebody better break out the life vests soon-wee.”

“Haha, well at least you’re not too broken up about it. That was probably your best joke of the week,” Niall shrugged, ruffling his hands through Harry’s hair.

Zayn pursed his lips skeptically, “At least of the month,” he decided.

“You alright then, buddy,” Liam frowned concernedly.

“If he’s breaking out his best jokes of the month,” Louis shrugged, “I think it’s safe to assume he’ll be okay.”

Despite himself, Harry felt a small smile take his face. So the boys didn’t hate him. They weren’t tossing him out of the band. Maybe his life didn’t suck as much as he thought it did. 

“Come on,” Louis took his hand. “Let’s find you some clean clothes.”


	3. And the Winner Is...

Tapping his foot, Harry blew out an agitated breath and shifted slightly from side to side. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out. 

_To: Hazza_  
From: Boo Bear  
Did you get lost? 

Harry sighed before quickly thumbing back; _Queue is taking forever._

Squirming slightly, he glanced impatiently at the seemingly never-ending line in front of him. Whoever was in the toilet had either fallen in or else died. Apparently.

He tapped his foot again and checked his watch. If this didn’t hurry up, he was going to miss their award altogether. Louis decided to remind him of this with another text.

_You are missing everything. Just met Katy Perry and Adele!_

Shifting feet uncomfortably, Harry typed back; _Siiiick. Are they still there?_

_No. but you should be. Seriously missing everything._

‘ _Dammit_ ,’ Harry thought annoyed. What an initially brilliant - yet turned out to be not so brilliant after all - idea this was, to wait until the short ceremony break to go to the loo. When every other person in the entire building – maybe even the entire country judging by the size of this line, decided to do the same thing. How had it not crossed his mind at any other point during the night that it would have been maybe a little wiser to go earlier during one of the other nominations, when most everyone else was sitting at their tables enjoying the show, instead of hogging the bathroom? He crossed his arms and tapped his foot faster. 

What’s worse is that he had seriously waited too. Meaning, he had needed to go for more or less the entire event, but he either kept putting it off or else kept getting distracted by everyone and everything going on around him. He seriously had to stop doing that.

In his head he rewound back to thirty minutes earlier, when he’d almost considered just getting his ass to the toilet already, but stupidly stayed where he was and accepted the tall glass of champagne that was handed to him instead. _Yeah, real idiot move that was_ , he scolded himself. 

In fact, the more he thought back on it, the more he realized there was always someone handing him another drink, or refilling his glass when it was empty. He had originally thought the waiters were just attentive; either that or anxious for tips, but he now realized they were all really just conspiring against him. They must have known Harry had no control over himself when his glass was so kindly and repeatedly filled. They also must have known all that liquid had to go somewhere and that Harry was not only careless, but also easily distracted, and that he would wait until the last possible second before he finally went to the loo. 

Clearly he’d just been the innocent victim to some predetermined attack.  He should probably write a complaint. 

Well, maybe later anyway. Right now, he had a much more important matter to attend to. But in order to get to that, he first had to get to the bathroom. 

“Have we gone for a wee, or a nap?” Harry muttered angrily, and to nobody in particular. If there was any chance that he would possibly get to the bathroom some time before the night’s end; though it didn’t look likely, he was without a doubt peeing on whichever idiot had fallen asleep on the toilet and was keeping him from it for so long. 

He checked his watch again. At this rate he’d never get back out there in time for their nomination. 

“Idiot,” he repeated to himself. 

Becoming increasingly restless, he bounced a little on his toes and bit his lip, trying to see over the many heads in front of him to how far away he still was from the bathroom door. But it turned out he couldn’t even see the door from back here. Apparently, that was how far away he still was. 

With another frustrated breath, he pulled his phone out again and quickly texted back Louis.

_Think I might fully mature, pass my prime, and decompose in this bloody queue. Nice knowing you guys._

Louis sent his reply quickly and Harry shifted feet as he read it.

_RIP then love. Meanwhile we’ve just had a lovely chat with one Mr. Bruno Mars, himself._

Harry groaned, bending slightly at the knees and wincing. _Rest in Pee, you mean,_ he grimaced, ignoring the part about Bruno Mars because it pissed him off too much. God, he should have went sooner. Why does he do this to himself? 

Suddenly, he heard his name.

“Harry! Harry Styles! Can you look this way please? Harry!”

_’Oh great’_ , Harry thought as he spotted a group of paparazzi; who had apparently taken on new extremes to get past security. _’How did they get in here?’_

“Please Harry! Smile for us. Come on now.”

He shook his head and looked away in annoyance. He absolutely couldn’t wait to see how many were going to profit now for their exclusive cut of Harry in his most astounding role to date: Waiting for the Toilet. That must be in _such_ high-demand. 

“You’re nominated tonight, Harry? Do you really think you deserve it?” The paparazzi shouted at him. “There’s quite a bit more talented artists here, don’t you think?”

Cameras were flashing repeatedly, but Harry gritted his teeth and half turned so his back was facing them all. He was used to the rude comments, and not only did he always opt to ignore them anyway, but it was too hard to concentrate on them right now when he not only had to wee really bad, but was also noticing the lights from the other room starting to dim. How could they be restarting the show already? Clearly someone was not aware of the gridlock taking over the lobby. 

Sighing audibly, he jiggled his leg as he once again tried seeing past all the people ahead of him. What was the holdup here, honestly? Should someone call a medic – like, had someone seriously croaked on the toilet?

Trying to be stealthy, he peeked over at the group of paparazzi still snapping shot after shot of him and grimaced. They never manage to capture him in the sight of anything meaningful, or at least; non-embarrassing. They were probably in cahoots with those bloody waiters. How else would they pick just the right moment when he’s wiggling around and trying to save the new suit he just bought from an ill-fated wee stain, to dismay him with their presence? Well, at least now he knew how they got in. He was seriously filling a complaint against the staffing in this place.  

Biting his lip and checking his watch for about the hundredth time since he got in line, Harry tried not to move around too much. Very aware of both the cameras, and the fact that he was in a room full of people; most of whom he’d spent his life idolizing, and that he’d rather not be remembered by them all as, ‘the curly-haired kid from that One Direction band who almost peed himself in line for the toilet’. 

Squinting anxiously through the hall and back into the main room, Harry couldn’t spot the rest of his band. But they were sitting relatively close to the stage, so with the dimming lights it was unlikely he’d be able to see them from his current position anyway. Besides, Harry was probably the one with a search party out for him. He seriously couldn’t believe how long he’d been standing here.

Harry noticed the flashing stop as an attendant thankfully and finally managed to get a handle on the paparazzi, and were ushering them quite forcibly to the exits. Good. One less thing he had to deal with. His phone buzzed again and he glanced at it twitchily. 

_To: Hazza_  
From: Boo Bear  
Better get that cute bum back here, love. Show’s starting. 

_’Ugh, you’re kidding me,_ ’ Harry griped. The band had been mentioned before the break and he knew it couldn’t be too long before their nomination. He couldn’t miss it! He and the boys had been waiting for this for weeks now, they were so excited. 

What a truly wonderful time to seriously need a wee. His stupid bladder could not have timed itself out more perfectly. (The fact that it was Harry who had chosen to ignore its repeated warning signals for the past few hours, was completely beside the point.) 

Leaning slightly to the side while trying to discreetly turn one knee into the other, Harry tried to figure out what to do. 

If he had to compare it to anything, it’d be like one of those ‘angel and devil on each shoulder’ moments. Only instead of an angel or a devil, it was a fancy, shiny, gleaming award on one shoulder, and then a full, pulsing, distressed bladder on the other. And so far they were both bringing up such valid points, Harry wasn’t sure which one to trust.

The award; in all its glory, was taunting Harry with its claims that Harry had never won an award before. And to win an award he had to be in the room said award was given, with the rest of his band, and that they clearly so deserved it, too. This wasn’t just some press event or radio show. This was a major event. Something they’d be remembered for. Something that he’d been waiting so excitedly for. 

Harry whimpered and squeezed his legs. Now the bladder was interrupting.

It reminded Harry that he had already put it off for far too long as it was. That he had steadily kept filling it all night with all those drinks he insisted on gulping down. That he was already in line and had been for too long to back out now. In addition, it pointed out that he was already doing the _I-really-have-to-wee dance_ and that that dance can turn into a full on performance of humiliation if he kept it up for too long. He was young; he had his whole career ahead of him and plenty of time to receive awards.

Shit, those were all such good points! He needed a third opinion.

_To: Boo Bear_  
From: Hazza  
I still have to wee 

Chewing his lip, Harry fidgeted restlessly with his hands and tensed his face. He seriously couldn’t miss this award. But he also seriously couldn’t not pee either. Louis wrote him back.

_You have your whole life to wee - get back here, idiot._

Yep, somewhere not so deep down Harry knew Louis would side with the award. He bit his lip and jiggled his leg nervously. He really couldn’t believe he hadn’t managed to actually get to the bathroom during this break. His phone buzzed again and he scrunched his face, giving the line another worried glance before he checked it.

_I’m coming to get you_ , Louis wrote. 

_’Get me?’_ , Harry shook his head, shoving his phone back in his pocket. _’But I haven’t peed yet!_

With a sigh, Harry crossed his legs as casually as he could make it look; which, paired with his tense face was probably not that casual looking at all, and clasped his hands down in front of himself. He twisted his body slightly from side to side. How the fuck long did it take people to pee? Did they need him to explain how to do it? Go in, pee, and leave. It’s not that complicated. So why the fuck was it taking so long? 

And great, Harry just realized. So this meant if they did win (fingers crossed!), he had to go up there like this? Fuck, why him? Why was it always always always him!? 

Bouncing with his knees he glanced hopelessly ahead of him again, but it was useless. Not only was he clearly not getting to the toilet before their nomination, it didn’t look like he’d be getting there before his twentieth birthday. Make that thirtieth. 

But since this discovery apparently wasn’t efficient enough torture for him, his bladder decided to increase its uncomfortable pulsing just to remind him once again how bad of a decision it had been to wait this long. As if he didn’t realize that already. Harry uncrossed his legs, shifted feet and then crossed them again. Fuck, why now – why did he have to go so bad right now? Why wasn’t there some magic pill or trick out there that would take the feeling of needing to wee away? Or at least until such a time that he was able to do something about it. Ohh, that was a good idea. Harry should invest in this new concept. 

He noticed another waiter handing a tray of sparkling drinks to some table, and as Harry was once again reminded of how much he’d drunk tonight, he swore he caught the waiter wink in his direction. Bloody conspirator. Harry was never trusting another liquid-serving employee again, that was for sure.

As he bent at the knees again, gripping his thighs slightly, he suddenly felt a forcible bump to his shoulder.

“Ohhhh,” he winced, as his bladder jolted painfully. “Wha - ?”

Eyes having squeezed shut at the contact, he cracked them back open to see Louis grinning stupidly at him.

“I have to say,” Louis sighed, “when you said you were still in this queue, I thought that was code for ‘I just found a really fit lad, and I’m not completely convinced that’s a gun in his pocket either.’”

Squeezing his legs uncomfortably, Harry made a face and hissed, “What? No. It wasn’t code. It was ‘I’ve seriously been in this fucking queue for an hour, and I don’t know what to do cause I seriously need a wee. Bad.’”

“ _Seriously_ ,” Louis repeated mockingly. “That sounds like some _serious_ dilemma you’ve got there. But while I appreciate your delicate situation, we’ve got a _serious_ award to win, mate. Toilet time can wait.”

Harry groaned and as stealthily as he could, tugged his pants so that they weren’t pressing so tight against his bladder. No actually; ‘Toilet Time’ really couldn’t wait.

Louis grabbed his hand, “Hurry up, they really are starting again,” he urged, pulling a little.

“But -” Harry tried, eyeing both the line and door to the other room uneasily.

“Come on!” Louis pulled him harder, causing Harry to stumble forward and almost lose his spot in the queue. “If you make us miss this, then I will have no choice but to shave your head, sell your precious locks on eBay, and use the money to buy you a tombstone. Because; oh yeah, the boys said if you don’t get your bum back in there, then they’ll each be a contributing hand in your untimely demise.” He frowned, “Please don’t add ‘Murder Suspects’ to our growing list of ¬¬media-based insults. We already get enough shit as it is. The press would have a field day if something like that got out.” And without waiting to give Harry either a chance to respond or even process this somewhat-violent announcement, Louis tugged him again and Harry was forced from the line.

“Ugh!” he gasped, half glancing back over his shoulder in dismay, and half stumbling along as Louis led him back to the main entrance door. “Louis! How could you do that!” Harry hissed, watching as the guy who had been behind him stepped forward, sealing Harry’s fate. Fuck!

“Do what?” Louis raised an eyebrow, evidently completely confused. Then he reached over and brought his fist to Harry’s head, giving his skull a few good thumps. “Knock, knock. Anybody home? I’m looking for that curly boy that I think lives in there. Will you please let him know that we’ve been nominated for _Album of the Year_ and that we’re about to be announced any minute? Thank you.”

“You’re such a pain in the ass,” Harry mumbled, pulling his head back and wincing as each step he took shook his bladder uncomfortably.

“Just yours. I promise,” Louis winked, continuing through the door and glancing for their table. 

Despite the lights being atmospherically dimmed, people were still all over the place; moving from table to table, looking for their seats, and hunting down more drinks. A waiter walked by and offered out a platter of glasses.

Gritting his teeth, Harry shook his head decisively while Louis reached for two, “Ah, excellent.”

Taking a sip, he handed the other glass out to Harry, who took it hesitantly and made a face, “Uh, thanks…”

“To us!” Louis said happily, clanking glasses and gulping his drink down sloppily.  
“Uh huh,” Harry muttered, looking around distractedly, bouncing softly in place. When Louis wasn’t looking, Harry set the glass down on someone else’s table and cringed. There was absolutely no room in his screaming bladder for any more liquid than there already was. Thankfully, Louis didn’t seem to notice.

“Oh, look!” he pointed out. “Kings of Leon!”

Harry winced as Louis tugged him forward harshly, “Ohh Louis, careful – “ he tried to warn, but Louis was already talking to someone else he’d just bumped into and didn’t hear him.

Well, if he had so much time to stop for a chat then why’d he demand Harry get in here this instant and lose his place in the bathroom line? Harry stood on his toes to try and see their table; catching sight of the blonde top of Niall’s head, as his hands fidgeted restlessly down in front of himself. He started swaying back and forth, foot to foot. This was really not good at all. 

With his lip between his teeth, he glanced hopefully back out the door to the lobby. There was still a massive queue. Was Harry allowed to get his original spot back in line if he’d already stepped out of it? He didn’t really have to go all the way to the end again, did he?

Louis was still talking animatedly, now to a group of older women who had apparently recognized them as ‘those cuties from that British band’. Agitatedly, Harry brushed the hair away from his face with his fingers and bent slightly at the knees, trying not to start bouncing again.

“—Of course,” Louis said after a couple minutes, “and have a drink, then. On me!” he winked to the table of old ladies. He tugged Harry’s hand again, and Harry; who had been clenching and unclenching his fists while trying to deafen himself to his bladder’s incessant calls, stumbled forward with a jolt.

“Ohhhfff!” he groaned, as all the urine inside him shook horribly. 

“Really lovely, they were,” Louis told him smiling back at the table. “Although one of them was clearly out to pinch your bum. I’ll have to keep my eye on her.”

Confusedly, Harry glanced behind himself back at the table, where one of the women winked and waved at him. Oh, great. But honestly. He had much bigger problems to deal with at the moment. 

“Suppose I should get us back to the table before the boys starting putting hits on me next,” Louis decided, lacing his and Harry’s fingers seamlessly.

As Louis led him along, sidestepping and twisting to avoid people and chairs, Harry glanced around fretfully in some useless hope that maybe there was actually another toilet in this place that no one else knew about and he could sneak into really quick. But no, it didn’t really look that way.

His bladder felt so incredibly full; pulsing in his gut, and he hissed worriedly through his teeth.

“I thought you said they were starting again,” he whined to Louis. “But no one’s even in their seats and there’s nobody on the stage either.”

“Well, I may have exaggerated a tad,” Louis admitted. “But they did say within the next fifteen minutes, and it’s been,” he glanced at his watch, “at least ten. So it should be any time now.”

“Well, that’s fifteen more minutes I could have had to wee with,” Harry groaned.

“Now, don’t be a sourpuss,” Louis exclaimed, reaching out to pinch Harry’s cheek. “And show me that smile.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Harry closed his eyes and forced a wide, open mouth, and almost painful smile on his face.

“Well, you could probably tone it down a bit,” Louis decided, “but yeah. Better than it was at least.”

Harry rolled his eyes jokingly and let Louis lead him the rest of the way back to their seats.

“About bloody time, mates,” Niall shouted when they sat back down. “I swear I heard our category is the next one up.”

“It’s true,” Zayn nodded. “Although, that’s what they’ve been saying for the past hour now, isn’t it?”

“Also true,” Liam agreed.

Harry pulled out his seat beside Louis and Liam and sat down uneasily, adjusting his pants again so they weren’t right against his bladder.

“Where have you been, Haz?” Zayn asked him.

Harry could never tell if sitting was better than standing when he had to pee like this, and he was still undecided as his bladder continued to quiver and he pressed his thighs tightly together. “Trying to go to the loo,” he complained.

“That whole time?” 

“We thought you might have met someone and gotten a bit sidetracked,” Niall told him with a grin and a wink.

Harry shook his head, shifting forward and then back in his seat to try and get comfortable, “Just sidetracked by the apparent lack of available toilet facilities in this place,” he mumbled. 

“Hey, what did I just say?” Louis frowned at him.

With another sigh, Harry forced a slightly less enthusiastic smile on his face; if for not any other reason than just because he wanted to make Louis happy.

“That’s better,” Louis approved, leaning in for a quick kiss. 

“Well, we know who wins ‘Cutest Couple’ at least,” Zayn grinned, taking a sip from his glass.

Harry shook his head lightheartedly, while his leg shook quite distractedly. If their category wasn’t the next one up, he was going back to the loo. Screw the award. His bladder was right; he had his whole life to win ‘Album of the Year’. But he only had about ten minutes before he wouldn’t need the toilet anymore. 

As he waited increasingly impatiently for someone to start announcing _something_ already, Harry banged his legs together softly and fiddled restively with his blazer and then his bowtie. Then he smoothed his pants out and leaned back in his seat, sliding his fingers anxiously over his thighs and blowing out a slow breath. 

Niall was telling them all about the shelf he’d installed over his bed; dust-free and waiting to display his sparkling new award. Actually, he’d told them this story at least five other times throughout the night so Harry didn’t’ feel that bad about not listening as he glanced back over his shoulder anxiously. 

‘ _Need the loo, need the loo, need the loo,_ ’ he chanted repeatedly to himself. Why did he wait so long? What a seriously dumb move. 

Suddenly, the lights went out completely and Harry’s ears were filled with the sound of heavy applause. _’About bloody time!’_ he thought, clapping along with everyone a little less enthusiastically than he intended to. 

“Show time,” Louis winked at him.

Tapping his foot, Harry tried to straighten up in his seat a little; more to make room for his screaming bladder than in actual concern of his posture. But it wasn’t really helping. He pressed his thighs together before settling on crossing his legs at the ankles, hands folded on top of the table. 

As the announcer finally decided to make their reappearance on stage, everyone else clapped again, but Harry had to squeeze his legs desperately at a really intense pee urge that just hit him, so his clapping was even less enthusiastic than before. 

“Ouuuhhhhh,” he moaned quietly, shifting up in his seat, trying to press his groin into the chair.

The applause quieted back down and as the presenter went on to re-congratulate some of the previous winners of the night, all Harry could think was, _’Jesus, get on with it already!’_ He continued to wiggle around in his seat, thankful that it was so dim in here and maybe no one would notice him too much. 

“And now,” the presenter finally said, some thirty hours later; at least, that’s what it felt like, “it’s time to announce the nominees for -” Harry held his breath, leg shaking uncontrollably, “- Best Music Video!”

“Uggghhhh,” Harry groaned, falling back into his seat. So it wasn’t even their category after all! _’That’s it’_ , he thought, leaning forward against the pressure. 

Beside him Louis crossed his arms and pouted, “Why do they keep saying it’s going to be us, and it never is?” 

“The anticipation is killing me,” Liam agreed.

The anticipation wasn’t the only thing; Harry’s bladder was literally _killing_ him! He blew out a breath and rocked back and forth as subtly as he could in his seat.

“I have to go to the loo,” he stressed, leaning forward again and trying to press himself into the chair.

“I really thought they were going to call us next,” Louis told him, shrugging. “They kept talking like they were.”

“It’s gotta be soon,” Zayn assured, nodding and taking a sip of his drink.

Harry turned away so he wouldn’t have to watch the liquid sloshing around in his cup. Sort of the same way all the urine was sloshing around inside his bladder. 

“’Soon’ isn’t soon enough,” he whined, gripping the edges of his seat and wriggling his hips. “Do you think I have time to go really quick?”

“No,” Liam shook his head, checking over his shoulder. “Look how far back that is. And you said you were trying to go that whole break and never managed.”

“Just wait Hazza,” Niall pleaded. “And give me those note cards; I forgot what I’m supposed to say!”

As Harry reached distractedly in his pocket for the little speech they’d written up in case they won, Louis said, “You’re just supposed to say what comes natural, Niall. You’ll get too nervous if you try and remember all that. That was just practice so we’d have something in case we totally blanked.”

“I’m totally blanking, though,” Niall admitted, holding his shaky hand out for Harry to hand the cards to. “Thanks. Zayn, help me practice.”

As Zayn huddled over Niall’s shoulder, Harry glanced back again to the back of the room, where the door to the lobby and bathroom were. It was so risky to assume he might have enough time. But what if there wasn’t a queue anymore? But then, what if there was? What if they got called right when he was in the middle of peeing and he missed the whole thing? 

He chewed his lip as an even worse thought hit. What if he didn’t go and then they did win and he went up there and completely pissed himself in front of this entire room? And everyone else watching elsewhere. 

He tipped his chair back and forth as he tried to calm himself down. That wouldn’t happen, obviously.  He was a teenage boy; no matter how desperate he got, he never actually let it get that far. He just had to find some way to deal with it until he could get to a toilet.

Well, that was very obviously easier said than done, because while the presenter was preparing to announce the winner for Best Music Video, Harry’s bladder was seemingly preparing to fix the world’s current drought problems. He twisted slightly from side to side to try and find some sort of escape from the constant, unrelenting pressure, but it was impossible. He had literally drunk enough tonight to pee for five days straight. And it all wanted out right now too, apparently. 

“Ooohhh I really have to go to the loo!” He whined, leaning forward even though that didn’t really help anymore either.

“Why didn’t you go earlier?” Louis sighed, and Harry wondered how many times it must have been that Louis or any of the boys had said those exact words to him every time this exact situation happened. He really, seriously had to stop putting it off so long. 

“I just wanted to wait ‘til the break,” he tried to explain, shifting up in his seat to get a leg under himself so that he could grind and shove against it to try and take some of the edge off.

“Well now you have to wait ‘til they call us, at least,” Louis told him. 

_’But I can’t!_ Harry whimpered to himself. _’I really don’t think I can.’_

As he struggled to find a position that didn’t make him feel like he was going to explode, he had his elbows on the table, his hands fisted in front of his mouth, and he bit the side of one of his fingers hard enough to leave teeth marks.

The ‘Best Music Video’ winner was finally announced; some video Harry had never seen, or cared to see either if the mini clips being played were its supposed ‘highlights’. If their category wasn’t next, he was bypassing a complaint altogether and going straight for a lawsuit; this whole place was obviously in collective schemes at keeping Harry from using their bloody toilet. 

Everyone clapped again; well almost everyone. Harry’s finger was still in his mouth and he was too terrified at the current moment to move it. Actually, he was too terrified to move anything.

The clapping continued and the announcer took the stand once again, smiling wide, “We’d next like to present the nominees for,” Harry rocked in his seat, his finger was about to be severed off, “’Album of the Year’!’”

Well about fucking time!

As the boys clapped enthusiastically, Harry tried really hard to join in. He had been waiting for this just like they had and he absolutely hated that this moment was getting ruined because of something as trivial (although it sure didn’t feel trivial) as needing to wee. This was just so typical. 

Switching between squeezing and banging his legs together, Harry clapped too and smiled uneasily along with the others. 

“This is it!” Louis exclaimed excitedly.

“It’s in the bag,” Liam agreed, although Harry could see he had his fingers crossed.  
But Niall gasped, “Oh shit!” as he looked helplessly at the others, “I just forgot everything I’m supposed to say, again!”

Zayn reached over and rubbed his shoulders reassuringly, “Will you just relax already? Repeat after me: ‘Thank you everyone who voted.’”

Harry scrunched his face; he wished getting flustered over what he was supposed to say was the only thing he had to worry about. What a really stupid and inconvenient time to have to pee!

As he squirmed around continuously, their band was named as a nominee, and Harry was almost bouncing in his seat; and it wasn’t from anticipation either. _’Oh my god I have to wee. I really have to wee. Jesus Christ, what the fuck am I gonna do!?_ ’ he thought fretfully. 

“….And the winner for ‘Album of the Year’ goes to –“ the envelope was opened and the presenter smiled wide as they said, “One Direction!”

Harry almost peed his pants right there. Even despite all their hope, and wishing, and bedroom-shelf-installation, he still wasn’t sure how much he expected them to actually win this. 

The other boys stood up excitedly and Harry gritted his teeth as he slowly rose from his seat. Now all he had to do was get onstage in front of all these people, give some sort of speech, and try not to make a fool of himself as he also tried desperately not to wee his pants. Wonderful. He should get an award just for that.

With much difficulty, and narrowly avoided crotch grabbing, he followed the others up the little steps to the stage. The whole walk over he was hissing breaths through his teeth and each step just shook his bladder so much he thought about turning back around and making an embarrassing dash for the loo instead. The thought crossed his mind at least five times; all with his fairytale-ending of him in front of the toilet releasing the ocean of liquid currently trembling like waves inside him. 

Yet somehow, he found himself beside the others at the podium. Not exactly the toilet he’d been picturing, and not exactly the best place to be when thousands of eyes were on him and his bladder was pulsing terrifically. He bent at the knees and whimpered. 

Their award was passed to them; which was still shiny and pretty, though not as captivating anymore when compared to how badly Harry would rather wee, and Harry bit his lip as he crossed his legs uneasily, trying not to bounce too noticeably on the spot.

“Congratulations boys,” the presenter said as they gave them the stand.

Liam was the first to begin the speeches. As he started to thank everyone involved in making this happen, Harry swayed were he stood; legs still crossed, and clasped his eyes against the pressure, his hands fisting and un-fisting at his sides. Sure, he had never actually wet himself before, but he also hadn’t meant to take that fact as a personal challenge to see how far he could go before it happened, either. 

Louis suddenly squeezed his hand and whispered, “You okay?”

Shaking his head, Harry squeaked, “We need to make this quick!” A strong urge hit him then and he had to squeeze his legs even tighter together while emphasizing, “Like, _really_ quick.”

Louis frowned concernedly and Harry hated that he was ruining this moment just because he had to go to the toilet so bad. But he really had to go to the toilet so bad!

Liam looked to Niall when he was finished, and Niall gulped before he quickly rushed out, “Yep, what he said,” and took a step back again. Zayn gave him a ‘thumbs up’ and Niall seemed to relax a bit. 

_’Lucky him_ ’, Harry thought miserably. He wished a simple ‘thumbs up’ was all it would take to fix his current problem. But it would have to be more like a ‘seat up’. Toilet seat, that is. Shit, he really had to think about something else. 

Louis spoke next, and Harry tried so hard to just concentrate on what he was saying and be supportive like he knew Louis would be for him, but he could barely hear Louis over his own incessant screaming of, _’Have to wee, have to wee, have to weeeee!’_

When Louis looked towards him, Harry was almost shaking with his efforts of not wanting to start dancing around up here. Which was even more difficult since dancing around was exactly what he _did_ want to do.  Leaning uncomfortably to one side, he hunched awkwardly over the microphone and tried to take a few settling breaths. 

“Uh,” he huffed, twisting his hips from side to side. “Um, I just want to say…” but he trailed off as another powerful urge hit and he gasped, biting his lip so hard it hurt. “I-I just want to say – “ Fuck, he couldn’t do this. Shifting feet, he pressed his legs together and tried clearing his throat, “I just, um….”

“- He just wants to say, ‘Thank you everyone. Your support has been amazing, and we couldn’t have done it without you’,” Louis said into the microphone instead. 

Harry forced a tense smile and nodded as he backed away from the mic again, hopping up and down as lightly as he could. It occurred to him that this would eventually be broadcast, and he looked like such an idiot, but he couldn’t help himself. Actually, he would look like more of an idiot with wee going all down his legs, so he was okay with a little hopping. 

The audience applauded them again after Zayn had said his bit, and Harry was squeezing his hands into continual fists, pressing his thighs together. Someone came from behind the curtain to lead them backstage, and Harry half ran - half stumbled along as he trailed the others. As soon as they were backstage, Harry moved around awkwardly on the spot. He was literally going to pee his pants if he didn’t get to a bathroom in the next five seconds.  

“I can’t believe we won!” Liam exclaimed excitedly.

“This is so amazing - I think I might wee myself,” Niall added just as excitedly. 

“Yeah, you’re not the only one!” Harry yelped, reaching to squeeze his crotch despite the people crowding the area around them.

Louis was chuckling at his distress; how chivalrous, but Harry felt it much more essential that he scoop out the closest toilet facilities, rather than perform any psychoanalysis on Louis to try and understand how something like this could possibly be funny.

As he bent and bounced with his knees, Harry squinted past a small group of cameramen and gasped. There, tucked away in the corner of the room, was what he was looking for. It was about time things started going his way.  

“Thank god,” he said, shoving past the others, “move!”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Louis tut-ted as Harry rushed past him.

There were quite a few people backstage and Harry almost bumped into three of them in his haste to get to the toilet. As soon as he reached the door, he had to squeeze his legs impossibly tight to keep from making a mess all over the floor, but he grabbed the handle quickly and twisted it. He should have seen this one coming.; the door was locked.

“No! nooo,” he groaned, bouncing up and down. “Why, why, why?”

Without hesitation, he banged on the door a few times before clasping his hands down in front of himself and twisting awkwardly away so no one would catch him squeezing at his crotch. 

“Just a sec,” whoever was in the bathroom told him. 

_’I don’t have a sec!’_ Harry wanted to tell them, but kept it to himself instead. He didn’t have a sec, he didn’t have a half-sec, he didn’t even have a milli-sec. All he had was enough time to marathon-sprint to the toilet before the pee just finally exploded out of him. 

Surprisingly, he felt a sudden tug on his elbow and he glanced frantically to see the rest of the band there. They were being apparently led off by a few other people from the event, some with cameras that were pointing right at Harry. 

Upon noticing the cameras, Harry let go of his grip on himself, and tried to uncross his legs as well. He sort of managed but he was swaying awkwardly and he could barely stop switching feet.

“What?” he hissed to Louis. 

“Seems our presence is needed once again,” Louis said, with a shrug. “Post-win interview, apparently.”

Harry’s mouth almost dropped open, “Can’t it wait ‘til I go to the loo?” he cringed quietly so the cameras wouldn’t hear.

“I don’t know,” Louis shrugged again. 

“We’d like to have it now if that’s possible,” one of the people; apparently the interviewer, told him with a pleading smile. “Before the next winner’s announced and we have to interview them.”

“But, bu -” Harry looked hopelessly at the bathroom door and quickly knocked again. 

“I said just a sec,” the person inside reminded.

“Urrgggh!” Harry groaned out agitatedly, his bladder quivering. And just for good measure he gave the door a hard kick; the person inside crying out, “ _Are you kidding me!?_ ”, before Louis was taking his hand, and the interviewer not-so-subtly ushered them off; apparently repulsively intent on their bloody five minutes of interrogation. 

“How long is this supposed to take?” he hissed into Louis’s ear. 

Louis pursed his lips thoughtfully, a smile teasing his lips, “I think they said something like, two hours or so. Not too bad, right?”

“What?” Harry choked out. He made to turn back to the bathroom again but Louis squeezed his hand, keeping him in place.

“I’m just joking,” he assured him.

The interviewer had them huddle together against a backdrop embellished with the event’s and sponsor’s logos, and Harry had to cross his legs, hoping the cameras weren’t catching it. He trembled where he stood, face tense and lip between his teeth, and for some reason the interviewer took his squirmy behavior as enthusiasm.

“So this must be quite exciting for you guys,” she said. Well yeah, it was supposed to be. Unfortunately, the absolute last thing on Harry’s mind was their amazing win. “Harry,” she added, and when all the attention went to him, he tried to stay still but he couldn’t make his body stop twitching back and forth. “You especially, look like you’re bursting with excitement.” 

Of course Louis couldn’t resist this perfect opportunity, and he clapped Harry soundly on the back; jolting his bladder so much Harry had to close his eyes with a pained groan, and smiled widely, “He’s bursting with something, all right.”

Apparently this little comment was so funny, that the rest of the boys decided to join in laughing at Harry’s suffering. Harry shot them all what he had intended to be an exasperated look, but that took on more of a pained form instead, ruining the effect.

The interview proceeded to ask them an assortment of questions all relating more or less to the event and their incredible win, but Harry didn’t say one word. He couldn’t. All he could do was focus on the pounding pressure in his bladder. 

As she asked Liam about their album, Harry leaned from side to side, squeezing his eyes, his hands, his legs. Pretty much squeezing every possible thing he could think of that could be squeezed. But it turned out that wasn’t good enough.  
   
All of a sudden, he felt a huge spurt of pee leak past his hold and into his boxers. Before he could even scream, “Oh shit!”, another spurt followed and this one not only got his underwear, but Harry felt in horror as it seeped onto his pants too.

“Fuck!” he gasped, his face paling.

And without a second glance, he fled the scene before anyone could figure out what just happened, and rushed back to the tiny bathroom around the corner. He saw the door was open, but he could still feel wee dribbling out. His hand shot to his crotch and he squeezed his cock as tight as he could, darting into the bathroom and slamming the door.

He didn’t even have time to lock it as he hurriedly unzipped his dampening pants and aimed himself at the toilet.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever filled a toilet with that much pee in one go in his life. It just kept coming and coming and he wasn’t sure it was ever going to stop. It felt amazing. Seriously in comparison, it felt even better than their win. But he wasn’t going to tell the boys he just had that thought. That was between him and his bladder. 

When his pee did eventually come to an end, he sighed exaggeratedly; though he really did feel incredibly better, and flushed the toilet. Someone knocked on the door as he was zipping up.

“Harry? Everything alright?” It was Louis.

“Um,” Harry was now inspecting his stained trousers with a grimace. “Not exactly…” he admitted.

“Can I-“ but Louis cut himself off as he turned the unlocked door and it opened for him. “What happened?”

Torn between embarrassment and relief, Harry scrunched his face and pointed at his pants with a frown. It’s not like Louis wouldn’t have noticed anyway. 

“Oh.”

“I just can’t wait to hear what wonderful and no doubt witty comment you have to say about this,” Harry told him as he reached for some paper towels. 

“Hmm,” Louis looked him over thoughtfully, “do you have another pair of trousers you can wear?”

That was his crack at him? Louis had a perfect opportunity and he goes with sympathy? This had to be the most bittersweet moment of Harry’s life. 

He shook his head, “No. These are the only pair I have.”

“Well then,” Louis grinned, “I guess it’s safe to say ‘ _urine trouble_ ’, isn’t it?”

Make that the most bitter, un-sweet and also pathetically predictable moment of his life.


	4. One is Never Enough

The question is ‘What’s the most embarrassing thing to happen to you _as of recent_ ’?; the ‘as of recent’ throwing an unexpected spin on an otherwise routine question, and the boys have their eyebrows knotted together in deep thought.

But it’s only a moment before Harry suddenly feels eyes on him and he glances sideways at Liam. There’s a disconcerting grin on his face. Oh splendid, Harry thinks. And just what tragic moment is he going to have to relive this time?

“I think Harry’s got one,” Liam prompts, and the interviewer who’s sat on the couch opposite them, leans in interestedly.

But Harry just frowns, “I do?” 

“I can think of at least five off the top of my head,” Louis pats his shoulder admirably.  
“From this morning.”

“Well, it wasn’t this morning,” Liam says. “But didn’t something happen at one of our recent shows?”

Harry continues to frown. That actually doesn’t really narrow it down a whole lot because Harry’s more or less prone to odd things happening to him at every show.

Liam raises an eyebrow, “You don’t remember?”

The interviewer has got his mic at the ready, creeping even closer to the edge of his seat in anticipation for the no-doubt thrilling tale of Harry’s misfortune. 

Harry eyes the camera that’s recording the scene, apprehensively. Then he turns to Liam, “Did I slip or something?”

“Hahahaa,” Niall laughs out.

“He doesn’t remember,” Liam concludes. He turns to the interviewer, “Alright, I’ll tell it. So the other night, right in the middle of our gig, Harry decides he needs the toilet so badly that we have to stop the set so he can run offstage and have a wee.” 

Harry blinks at him disbelievingly. _’Really Liam? It was that necessary that you share this bit of information with the rest of the world?’_

Niall is still laughing, and now Louis joins in too, slapping his knee for kicks, “Oh yeah. That _was_ pretty embarrassing, wasn’t it?” 

“Thanks,” Harry says.

“Mid-concert toilet break?” The interview inquires. “That’s a new one. But don’t worry, Harry,” he says to him. “I’ve heard worse.”

“I’m gonna need examples please,” Louis folds his arms defensively, as if intent on saving Harry from being out-done on the humiliation scale. 

But the interviewers just chuckles awkwardly and says, “Everyone needs a wee sometimes, right? Even megastars.”

Harry smiles at him, “Thank you,” he says truthfully. 

“Yeah, well I think even ‘megastars’ can wait until after their show,” Liam sticks his tongue out at Harry.

“I tried to!” Harry insists. He definitely remembers what show they’re talking about. And he also definitely remembers that he could not have waited until it was over either. He leans over to Liam to hiss into his ear, loud enough for everyone else to hear, “It was an _emergency_!”

Liam laughs and shoves him away, “Right. Okay.”

Harry leans back and sighs at the interviewer, “Yeah, I can’t tell you how lucky it is to be in a band where no one holds awkward situations over your head ready to dish out at a moment’s notice; especially when the situations had been beyond your control. It’s really lucky.”

“Which band are you talking about?” Zayn wonders confusedly.

“Think that was a joke, mate,” Louis informs him. “Always a bit difficult to tell with Harry. But I do think it was an attempt at one.”

“Right,” the interviewer chuckles again. “So…are we ready to move onto the next question, or -?”

“Yes!” Harry nods, gesturing with his hands to move the guy along. “Next question.” One embarrassing moment is all Harry can handle right now. Especially since Louis’s got that mischievous twinkle in his eye; no doubt prepared to start ticking off the collection he’d previously mentioned involving Harry and that morning. 

Nope, one embarrassing moment is definitely enough for today…

…………………………

He doesn’t know if it’s the retelling of that story; though it undoubtedly has something to do with it, but by the time the interview is finally over, Harry is quite ready for a bathroom break. As he shakes the interviewer’s hand along with the others, he catches sight of an empty mug on the table and he’s reminded of the extra cup of tea he’d had earlier before heading out. In addition to the water they’d been supplied before both this and their previous two interviews. Yeah, it was definitely time for a bathroom break. 

“I call shotgun!” Louis exclaims as they make their way out of the room and to the narrow little hallway.

Harry is just about to join in with his own dibs on first toilet, when Paul is suddenly there, ready to collect them up for yet another redundant, yet ironically essential scheduled event. What do they call that, an oxymoron? Yes, ready to collect them up for their oxymoron of an afternoon. But, Harry reminds himself excitedly, they have the rest of night off. And that’s the only thing getting any of them through today, to be honest.

“All set lads?” Paul checks his watch. “Good. Well we’ve got a bit of time before we need to be to the next one. And there’s a pizza place not far from here, you guys hungr-?”

“- Do you even have to ask?” Zayn interrupts.

“Right,” Paul agrees, beginning to fuss about with his phone. “I’ll tell them to bring the car around, and we can go.” 

As the others nod tiredly and lean against the wall to wait, Harry glances around surreptitiously. He has no idea where the loo is. And possibly it was the recounting of that story as well, but he’s feeling weirdly reluctant to ask where it might be either. Obviously his needing to pee is more an opportunity for a laugh than it is any serious matter, and he’s too tired to have to deal with anymore teasing; no matter how playful.

He shifts feet slightly, trying to determine how bad he actually has to go. Obviously he can wait; he’s not desperate or anything. But does he want to wait? Shifting feet again he glances around with his lip between his teeth. His bladder feels even fuller now that his attention isn’t on something else; like cyclic interview questions, and he grimaces. Not really, he decides. He’s had enough opportunities by now to learn that waiting is never really the smartest decision. So where exactly is that handy little toilet?

As he stands on tiptoes to try and squint down the long hallway they’re in, Louis rolls his eyes at him and sighs, “Yes, we all know you’re impressively taller than us, and we’re undoubtedly happy for you. Now get over it.”

Harry glances at him distractedly as Liam crosses his arms, “He’s not taller than me,” he counters.  

Momentarily forgetting his search for the loo, Harry straightens up to his full height and says, “I am definitely taller than you.”

“Maybe with your hair like that,” Zayn admits, fluffy with Harry’s locks which he’s got brushed away from his forehead. 

“Li,” Niall puts a delicate hand to Liam’s shoulder. “I think Harry’s curls put you out of the running.”

Harry grins before ruffling his hair back to how he likes it. Then he sticks his tongue out at Liam just for good measure.

“Right, you boys ready then?” Paul suddenly interrupts, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Car’s out back.”

The boys follow Paul readily, but Harry bites his lip and picks at his nails worriedly. He should use the bathroom since he’s here. _’Don’t be stupid, Harry,’_ he tells himself, still glancing around quietly.  

But as they make their way to the elevator at the end of the hall, something’s still holding him back and before he can take his lip out from being chewed between his teeth and ask where the toilet is, the lift’s doors are opening and the others are piling inside it. 

There isn’t any more time to dwell on it, so he follows, cupping his hands in front of himself as the doors close. It’s smart to use the bathroom first, but he can always go at the pizza place. Paul said it isn’t far. 

As the lift takes them down, Harry is against the back wall and chewing his nail. His bladder is definitely full. There’s no denying that fact. He leans into the wall behind him and tries not to think about it. Instead he focuses his thoughts on tonight when he’ll be home and he can just lie on his couch and relax the rest of the evening. It may not seem especially fascinating maybe, but he can’t wait.

He keeps himself distracted with a possible list of movies he’ll end up watching that night, long enough for the lift to reach their floor with a tiny ding. Paul leads the way out and as he turns towards the exit, Harry makes one last feeble glance for a bathroom. Why weren’t these things ever in plainer sight? They were always tucked in some corner, or all the way in the back of the building, or some other inconvenient spot like that. They should be right out front and well-situated so that when someone shows up dying to wee, they don’t have to prance around like an idiot trying not to make a mess all over the floor. Harry knows; he’s been that person many times. 

Giving up his feeble little search, Harry blows out a breath. He’ll just go at the restaurant.

As they pile into the van, Harry gets a spot by the window and he runs his hands over his thighs before crossing his legs at the ankles. 

Liam climbs in beside him, but Harry holds a hand above his head and says, “I think you actually have to be this tall to sit here.”

Managing to muster up some sort of supposed-to-be-but-it’s-really-not-threatening-at-all face, Liam says, “Hair doesn’t count in the height-war. Therefore I haven’t lost.” 

Harry pokes his cheek, “Whatever you say, Shortie.”

As Paul pulls onto the main road, he glances at them in the rearview mirror and says, “If you guys want, there’s a park down the road we could go eat at.”

“A park?” Louis pouts. “Like with swings and sandboxes? Really Paul, are we three?”

Paul raises an uncertain eyebrow, “Is that a yes, then?” 

“You bet it is,” Louis tells him.

They pass a couple of streetlights before Harry leans forward a tiny bit and asks. “Where is this restaurant we’re going to?” 

“A few more blocks down,” Paul tells him. “Now can we please only order as much as we’re going to eat this time? I seem to remember last time one of you, _Louis_ ,” he coughs, not so subtly, “insisted on ordering ten boxes of pizza. And we ate two.”

“Better to be safe than sorry,” Louis reasons with a shrug. “How was I supposed to know that everyone had already eaten an entire round of Nando’s?”

“Maybe because you had, too,” Zayn reminds him.

“Exactly whose side are you on?” Louis gasps incredulously.

“I’m on Louis’s,” Niall assures. “Much better to be ten-pizzas safe, than two-pizzas sorry.”

"Good man,” Louis approves. “Harold, Liam? You’re awfully quiet on this matter.”

Harry is tapping his foot, and he winces when they hit a bump in the road. He’s on whichever side will get him to a toilet the fastest. 

“Fine,” Paul groans, turning down another street. “We’ll get ten. Hell, why not make it twenty? That’s one for each of us, and only fourteen that will go to complete, uneaten waste.”

“Paul,” Louis frowns, “that’s a lot of wasted food. Think about all the starving people in the world. You should sort out your priorities.” 

Paul shakes his head, telling himself, “I can’t ever win, can I?”

“They say ‘admitting you have a problem’ is the hardest part,” Liam tells him. “But I personally believe ‘admitting defeat’ is the most noble.”

Niall claps Paul on the back, “We’re proud of you.”

Temporarily distracted, Harry shakes his head with a small smile. Paul really can’t win. But at least he doesn’t have to pee. He should actually feel pretty good right now. 

“You alright over there?” Louis suddenly pokes Harry in the shoulder making him jump slightly. “You’re suspiciously quiet.”

“Just tired,” Harry lies. Well it’s not really a lie, he’d never pass down the opportunity to sleep, but it’s more of a cover up to what’s really bothering him anyway.

“Yeah,” Zayn agrees. “I can’t wait for this day to be over. I don’t even think I’m even gonna take my shoes off before I hit the bed.”

The others join in with their own tell-all fantasies of how their nights will go, but Harry only half-listens. They’ve been driving too long now, haven’t they? Glancing at his watch he makes a face; didn’t Paul say this place wasn’t far away? He decides to remind him of this fact.

Turning to press his knees together, Harry says, “I’d just like to point out that as tempting as the whole ‘thirty minutes or it’s free’ deal is, I think it only applies to the actual pizza delivery, not the people going to get it.” He then crosses his legs back at the ankles. “We can get there in an hour or in five minutes and it’ll still be the same price either way.”

“That’s a truly fascinating story Harry,” Louis tells him. “However does it have anything even resembling a point?”

Harry offers up an overly sweet smile as he pleads, “Maybe we can speed it up a little bit, yes? Get there before it closes, even?” He shifts up in his seat and looks out the window anxiously. 

“That would probably help,” Liam agrees.

“Do you want to drive?” Paul asks them firmly.

“Yes!” They all shout out in unison.

Paul switches to another lane and says, “Well, tough. And anyway, it’s just up ahead.”

Gritting his teeth into a strained smile, Harry glances eagerly out the window and can spot the little pizza place down the road. He’s actually very excited to wee at this point. Whatever hadn’t made its way to his bladder at the interview has caught up to him by now, and he jiggles his leg impatiently as they pull into the lot. He still isn’t desperate and he doesn’t plan on getting that way either. He just really wants to go. 

Once the van’s parked, Harry has to wait for Liam; and actually Louis and Zayn who both graciously cut in front of him as well, to climb out. He leans a bit forward in his seat and furrows his eyebrows together as Louis suddenly leans back inside, once again blocking Harry’s escape, to grab the beanie he’d left on the seat. 

“Hair’s a mess,” he explains as he shoves the cap over his head before leaning over to randomly peck Harry on the lips. “Actually, that was just an excuse to kiss you,” he confesses, finally climbing out of the van after the others.

Harry smiles to himself, he really loves when Louis thinks of excuses to kiss him. But then Harry’s bladder thumps again and his smile fades as he hurriedly follows the others outside.

Inside the restaurant – if it can even be called that – is tiny. Really tiny. As in, there aren’t even any tables to eat at. It’s just one of those ‘pay us and get out of here’ type places, apparently. It makes sense now why Paul suggested they go eat at the park instead. But Harry doesn’t care about whether this place has tables or not, he’s just interested in whether they have a loo he can use. 

The others head up to the counter to order, but Harry falls behind as he quickly skims the room. _’Bathroom, bathroom, bathroom…where are you?’_ He sways his hips back and forth slightly as his eyes look left then right. Nothing but a register, a vending machine for beverages, and the door. Hissing through his teeth confusedly, he quickly glances behind himself just in case it’s by the entrance and he missed it. Nothing.

_’Dammit_ , he thinks. Why does this always happen to him?

“You-who; Curly. We order over here, you know,” Liam suddenly reminds Harry, interrupting his thoughts.

“Oh, what’s it matter,” Louis shrugs. “He’ll just eat from ours anyway.”

“That’s not true,” Harry lies, knowing full well that’s exactly what he’ll do. “I want whatever Niall’s having,” he decides, coming up to join the others, hands clasped down in front of himself again.

Niall sighs as if relieved that since Harry’s ordering the same thing, he won’t have to worry about sharing his own. But Louis just raises a rueful eyebrow at him and says, “Like that’ll save you.”

The others finish ordering up; seven pizzas this time; one for everybody and one extra just in case, and Harry shifts feet distractedly with a sigh. He actually really has to pee. 

_‘Should have gone at the interview,’_ he reminds himself, annoyed with his constant bad planning.

Getting lost in the increasingly-distressful world of uncomfortably full bladders, Harry is stepping lightly from side to side, and he hasn’t been paying attention to what’s going on at the counter. So when Paul turns around and tells them it’ll be twenty or so minutes, Harry suddenly squeezes his legs together in horror.

“What?” He hisses, hoping he heard wrong.

“Twenty minutes isn’t bad for seven pizzas,” Zayn tells him. “I once waited forty just for one.”

“Well that’s cause you ordered from Dominos and tried to pick it up at Papa John’s,” Louis reminds him.

Zayn’s face glosses over at the memory, “Oh yeah.”

Yeah sure. Twenty minutes isn’t bad for seven pizzas, Harry agrees. But it’s bad when you’re stuck somewhere with no loo and you need a wee. He checks his watch uncertainly and tries to keep his face unreadable. Okay, no big deal. He’ll just go at the park. They have toilets at parks, right? Sure they do. Of course, if this flourishing pizza business can’t even provide one, maybe he’s risking it with the optimism. 

There’s a small bench by the door for waiting, but it only fits four of them, leaving Louis and Harry left standing. Harry’s okay with that actually, walking is better. So that’s what he does. As the minutes tick away insultingly slow, Harry paces back and forth impatiently. His hands are folded over his chest briefly before he shoves them in his pockets instead. Another minute later, he crosses them again before finally hooking his thumbs discreetly into his belt loops and tugging his pants away from his bladder. They’re really starting to dig into it. 

With a lengthy sigh, he once again checks his bloody watch. Barely any time has gone by but it’s felt like an hour now. 

_‘Really should have gone at the interview’_ , he groans to himself. 

Stopping his restless pacing, he stands awkwardly by the bench instead and crosses one leg casually over the other. That helps a little, he decides. How can they not have a bathroom here? Would it really put them out so much financially that they can’t even set up a measly little toilet? Apparently so, Harry frowns, uncrossing his legs to re-cross them the other way instead. 

_‘Hurry uuuuppp,’_ he thinks, squeezing his legs at the urge that is continuing to build.

“Alright, so we have an hour or so; maybe less, before that last interview,” Paul suddenly informs them. “We’re gonna have to eat pretty quickly I guess, to make it.”

“Don’t you love the days when we don’t have to rush from every single thing to the next?” Zayn sighs.

“No, what are those days like?” Louis wonders interestedly. 

“Oh, suck it up,” Paul hushes them. “We got the night off, don’t forget.”

As Niall pretends to faint with happiness into Liam’s arms, Harry bends slightly at the knees, but he still shares Niall’s excitement at that blessed fact. He’s probably going to skip the movie and just go right to bed. Of course, that’s unless Louis’s got his own plans for them that night. Harry will probably find a way to stay awake for those.

_’I’ve got to weee,’_ Harry whines to himself, shifting feet and crossing his arms again. He still doesn’t bother telling any of the others though since there isn’t really anything they can do about it anyway. Plus if he keeps it to himself, then no one will be able to bring it up in their next interview. Paul may never be able to win with this band, but honestly, Harry isn’t a whole lot of steps ahead of him really. 

Tapping his foot, Harry decides to distract himself by listening in as Liam explains in explicit detail exactly how he plans to spend their first night off in weeks. It works for a little while, but Harry starts twisting lightly at the hips halfway through and by then end, he’s tugging at his waistband again.

“Sounds like you’ve got this all thought out,” Louis admires, when Liam ends his speech with a contented sigh.

“Oh, and you don’t?” Zayn smirks knowingly as Niall laughs along.

With a playful glance at Harry, Louis just grins, “I’m not telling.”

“That’s a yes,” Niall understands.

Harry rolls his eyes lightheartedly and starts his uneasy pacing again. This really needs to hurry up. With another frustrated breath, he once again glances at his watch and is relieved to see that almost twenty minutes have passed. It’d be anytime now.

“Got somewhere to be?” Louis suddenly asks him, bumping into his shoulder and unknowingly jarring Harry uncomfortably.

Harry winces, clasping his eyes briefly, before he jiggles slightly on the balls of his feet, “What do you mean?”

“You’ve checked that thing,” Louis indicates Harry’s watch, “at least seven times in the past five minutes.”

Shit, why does Louis always notice everything? Or maybe Harry is just too obvious. He quickly stops his conspicuous bouncing and forces himself to just stand still.  

“I’m hungry,” he explains to Louis, still not ready to admit that he really actually just needs to wee. Really bad.

“So am I,” Niall groans. “Hasn’t it been twenty minutes yet?”

“About,” Paul nods, checking his phone and glancing up front expectantly.

And just as Harry does the same, a stack of pizza boxes are placed on the counter along with the call of, “Order up!”

_’Yes, finally!’_ Harry thinks anxiously.

Paul is silently yet unanimously selected as the one to carry everything, and the boys follow him out. Harry trails behind once again and as he passes through the door, he quickly reaches down to squeeze himself once. He’d been wanting to do that for a while but knew it would give him away if the boys saw. 

As he waits for Liam to climb in the van, Harry bounces on his feet and turns one knee against the other. The pressure in his bladder is significantly pressing at this point and he seriously can’t wait to get to a fucking toilet already.

With a huff, he squirms in his seat and cringes as his jeans; which are tight enough as it is, cut roughly into his lower stomach. _’Why does your bladder have to be right there_ ,’ he thinks as he tries to arrange himself into a way so nothing’s pressing against it. He decides to opt out of wearing a seatbelt this trip; he doesn’t want to deal with the added pressure it’ll put against his bladder.

Beginning to rock softly in his seat, he notices Paul still hasn’t started the car yet and that is just not acceptable at this point.

“Are we eating in here…?” he asks sarcastically. 

“Just a sec,” Paul mumbles, fiddling with his phone. “Just getting an update on your guys’ interview.”

“And?” Zayn leans in.

Paul scrunches his face up, “They’re trying to bump it up.” 

“Like hell they are,” Louis gripes, tapping Harry sharply on the shoulder.

Harry turns around in his seat to glance at him but Louis just looks around, whistling as if nothing happened. 

He presses a quick hand to his crotch again before he says amusedly, “Did you need something?” 

“Me?” Louis points at himself, puzzled.  
   
“You just tapped my shoulder,” Harry reminds him.

“That’s quite an accusation, Harry,” Louis tuts.

Shaking his head jokingly, Harry turns back around and taps his foot while looking at Paul expectantly. 

“Are we going or not?” he asks again, trying but failing to keep the whining from his voice. 

“You’re curiously impatient today,” Louis teases, tugging at one of Harry’s curls.

Harry sighs, leaning back in his seat and pressing his legs together, “Well, you’d be impatient too if you needed to go to the toilet really bad,” he says, forgetting his previous decision at keeping that bit of information to himself. 

“Ah, the truth comes out,” Louis continues to play with Harry’s hair fondly.

“Need a wee-wee, Harry?” Niall giggles along.  

Harry turns his toes together, squeezing his thighs, “Yes, I do. I really, really do. So can we maybe get going please?” 

“Alright, alright,” Paul sighs, putting his phone away and turning on the ignition. “And yes, you’re welcome for fixing all that up for you lads too, by the way,” he adds, indicating the interview bump-up. “I know you were all so concerned.”

“That’s why we pay you the big bucks,” Liam pats his shoulder.

“I must be getting someone else’s checks then,” Paul jokes, pulling out of the lot. Finalllly.

Harry leans forward in his seat and tries not to notice all the bumps and jolts of the road. Unfortunately, that’s all he notices. They hit a particularly large one and he grimaces, shifting uneasily as pee sloshes around inside him. He quivers at the uncomfortable feeling. 

They hit another bump, even rougher than before and he winces, leaning slightly forward in his seat, “Ohhhhmmff!” 

“Paul, have you no courtesy?” Louis pouts, rubbing Harry’s shoulder sensitively. “Harold needs a wee.” 

“Well jeez,” Paul groans. “First you’re yelling at me to hurry up, and now you’re wanting me to slow it down? Make up your mind, will you?”

“I’ll drive,” Zayn offers.

“You don’t even have your license,” Liam reminds him.

“Our pizza’s gonna get cold,” Niall frowns, trying to reach for one of the boxes. Liam smacks his hand away, “Oh will you calm down, Ni. And you’re right actually. I refuse to eat cold pizza.”

“Almost there,” Paul promises, taking a sharp corner and shaking Harry’s bladder again.  
Wincing slightly, Harry stretches his legs out in front of him and folds his hands tensely in his lap. _’Sheesh, I need a wee so bad,’_ he bites his lip. The rest of the boys continue to joke around and Harry jiggles his legs restlessly, looking anxiously out the window.

They pass a fast-food restaurant and Harry almost asks if they can stop there really quick so he can pee, but he resists, leaning back in his seat edgily. He already knows they wouldn’t go for it anyway. If he’s learned anything from his time in the band, it’s that everything else is totally and absolutely inferior to grumbling stomachs. And that includes Harry’s toilet needs. That’s probably at the top of the list, actually.  
   
He leans a bit from side to side, swinging his legs, but the others are too interested in annoying Paul to notice Harry’s subtle (at least he hopes it’s subtle) pee dancing. A minute later he starts banging his thighs together softly, clasping and unclasping his hands in his lap.

“Here we are,” Paul finally announces, pulling into a small parking lot and managing to hit yet another speed bump.

It jostles Harry’s bladder glaringly and he tries not to squeak out in pain. Instead, he brings his legs together and squeezes them tight. He has really, really got to wee. How long has he been holding it now anyway? Since the interview. He knows it wasn’t that long ago, but it feels like it’s been forever. It always feels like it’s been forever when you need to go this bad.

Paul swerves the van into an empty spot and Harry’s hand is readily on the door handle. _’There better be somewhere I can piss,’_ he thinks, swinging his legs side to side.  
Once the car’s stopped, he flings open the door and hurries out. They’ve parked next to a fence; a few benches and picnic tables set up just beyond it, and Harry immediately looks around for somewhere he can pee.

“Don’t forget the pizzas!” Niall reminds as he climbs out after Harry.

“Let’s eat at one of those tables,” Liam suggests, helping Paul with the tower of food.  
 _’Where’s the toilet!’_ Harry smudges his face, bouncing at his knees.

As he leans up on his toes to try and see over the van, he feels fingers intertwine with his own, and Louis starts tugging him off with claims of, “Come on, I’m famished.”

“Mmmff,” Harry groans at the sudden and unexpected jolt, but he lets Louis pull him away, his eyes still scanning the area.

As they make their way around the van and to a table set out a couple yards away, Harry notices three things. The first is the sparkling, splashing lake right across from them; the sound of waves crashing makes him cringe and reach down to squeeze himself involuntarily. The second is the toilet several yards away.  And the third is someone already waiting outside the door to use it.

But the worst part is the toilet itself. What is it with these places today and their either non-existent loos, or else shitty, only-use-if-you’re-desperate ones? Well, Harry is getting to that point, to be honest. Still, he had assumed a nice park like this would have a half-way decent toilet for people to use. But no, instead it’s one of those disgusting, can-smell-it-from-here portaloo things. Harry’s not really picky at this point, but there won’t even be a sink to wash his hands in and that’s just gross when he’s got an entire box of pizza to eat. 

Biting his lip, Harry stumbles along with Louis, feeling his bladder jolt and pulse with each step. Louis’s apparently forgotten about Harry’s need to wee, because he doesn’t even motion to the toilet and instead just jumps onto a bench and starts banging his fists on top of the table.

“Hurry it up,” he tells Liam and Paul, as they make their way over, Niall trying to reach over their shoulders and sneak out a slice of pizza.

Harry slides in beside him, straight-backed and with his legs squeezed together as he tries to figure out what to do. There’s already someone waiting for the toilet, which means he’d have to go over and wait too. Embarrassing. And he doesn’t want to touch any part of that toilet; including the door, and then use the same hands to eat his food with either. Maybe, possibly he can wait until he’s finished eating at least. Well yes, of course he can. He’s not a little kid.

The pizza boxes are set on the tabletop followed quickly by greedy hands grabbing at each one and complaining when they discover it’s not theirs. Harry chews his lip worriedly, rocking subtly back and forth in his seat. 

Watching the toilet intently, he reaches for his pizza and opens the lid absentmindedly. He pulls off a slice slowly and takes a bite, watching as the person who’d been inside leaves and the person waiting takes their turn. 

Harry shakes his legs back and forth. _’Just wait ‘til I’ve finished eating,’_ he tries to instruct his bladder.

A stronger urge hits him at his second bite, and he gasps quietly, crossing his legs quickly under the table. 

“Good god, has pizza ever tasted so delicious?” Louis wonders, pulling cheese off his chin.

“Never,” Niall agrees, already on his third piece.

“Better eat up guys,” Paul tells them. “We gotta be at that interview pretty soon here.”

Shaking his head to refocus himself, Harry finally looks away from the bathroom. Wiggling in his seat, he tries to focus in on eating his pizza in order to ignore the increasing need to pee. At least for a minute.

“Can we just blow it for once?” Zayn whines at Paul.

“You know you can’t,” Paul tells him to a chorus of moans.

Harry’s unable to keep from eyeing the toilet again, and he barely notices when Liam reaches over to steal a slice of his pizza. Someone else just stepped up to wait behind the door now. Scrunching up his face, Harry turns his attention instead to the especially noisy lake beside them. It’s a bit breezy out and it’s causing more and more waves to splash and crash against each other. His legs are still crossed and he squeezes them tightly, reaching down to grip his crotch.

“Wish we could go for a swim,” Louis says beside him, following Harry’s gaze.

_’Wish I could go for a wee,’_ Harry thinks instead. He’d love to jump in that water. Then he could pee all he wants. The thought has him squeezing his crotch even tighter.

Lost in wonderful thoughts of releasing all this urine inside him, Harry is startled when Louis suddenly says, “Why don’t you go wee already?” Glancing at him quickly, Harry sees that Louis’s eyeing Harry’s hand that’s holding himself. “Loo’s over there,” Louis nods his head in the general direction.

Slightly embarrassed at being caught doing something so ridiculous, Harry lets go of his dick but winces; eyes closed and ‘ _ohhhh_ ’ing out a moan, at the loss of additional help it had offered. He starts tapping his still-crossed legs and glances again at the toilet.

“There’s already someone queuing,” he points out. 

“Just go at the interview place,” Niall tells him. “I can smell that thing from here,” he makes a nauseated face at the toilet, though it doesn’t stop him from shoving another slice of pizza into his mouth. 

It’s tempting, but Harry is back to subtly rocking in his seat. He has to go bad. He had to go bad at the pizza place. He had to go bad at the interview. He would definitely regret it if he didn’t go here; even if the ‘facility’s’ not his first choice. Continuing to wiggle around in his seat, he shuts his eyes against that stupid lake that’s somehow correlated its splashes with each pulse of his bladder.    

“How much time we got?” Liam asks, finishing up his last slice and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Giving his phone a quick glance, Paul says, “About fifteen minutes. Then we should leave.” He frowns and says, “Make that ten.”

“Just enough time for a quick game of football?” Liam jumps up and runs back to the van.  
“I’m in,” Louis says, licking his fingers and shutting his pizza box.

“Mmm phoo,” Niall tries through a mouthful of food.

“ _Quick_ one, guys,” Paul reminds. “We’re in that van in five minutes.”

“You just said ten,” Niall reminds him.

“Yeah, well it’ll be ten by the time I finally round you up.”

“Aye Aye, Captain,” Zayn salutes, jumping from his seat too as Liam hurries back with the soccer ball he’d brought along with him that morning. 

_’Sounds good, yeah, fine, whatever, but I have got to go to the loo first!’_ Harry frets. Although he can’t exactly get up just yet. Wee has just threatened to leak out and he squeezes everything as tight as he can to stop the flood. Leaning forward against the pressure, he wiggles his bum, pressing his groin into the bench and grinding against it. Fuck, that was close. 

Wiping his hands off on his pants, he carefully makes his way off the bench. Standing stretches his bladder even more uncomfortably and he grimaces, gritting his teeth and having to take a moment to squeeze everything again and get himself back under control. He blows out a breath and is about to make the necessary trek to the toilet when Louis calls out, “You playing, Haz?”

“Gotta wee first!” Harry replies, twisting his hips slightly.

“Thanks for the update,” Liam tells him, bouncing the ball expertly with his foot.

Giving them a hasty thumbs up, Harry turns to the loo and takes all of one step forward when more bad luck strikes. A mother and her two children are just opening the toilet door, and another set is already stepping up behind them. Oh fuck, they’ll take forever! This is just _not_ his day, is it? 

What to do, what to do…. 

Suddenly there’s a hard knock to his back and he winces from both the surprise of it and the jolt it sends to his already screaming bladder. Turning around with a stressed face, he sees the other boys snickering at the soccer ball that just collided into him.  
“Sorry,” Louis shrugs, giggling.

“Yeah right,” Harry mumbles, eyeing the toilet once more in defeat. Fuck. 

Shifting feet, he gives the ball a feeble kick back, almost missing it completely and the other boys quickly go for it. But instead of joining in, Harry just stands there awkwardly, hands fidgeting in front of himself, swinging his body from side to side. Dammit he needs to wee. 

“Come on, Hazza,” Zayn waves at him. “We need you.”

“Ha!” The rest laugh mockingly.

“I think he’s better off just standing there to be honest,” Liam jokes.

“Higher chance at a goal not kicking at all,” Niall joins in, sticking his tongue out playfully at Harry.

Usually their taunting would motivate Harry to want to prove them wrong, but right now he’s too distracted to even really care. Bouncing at the knees, he glances hopefully back at the loo again. The first group is still inside. The second group is still waiting. Damn.  

“Head’s up!” Louis shouts, and Harry glances just in time to see the ball soaring his way. Instinctively, his hands shoot to his crotch to block himself and he takes the opportunity to grip his cock tightly, bending his knees. However, that’s all he has time to do before the ball strikes his thigh just inches from his groin.

“That could have been ugly, couldn’t it?” Louis admits, running over to get the ball back.

“Stop kicking that thing at me,” Harry pleads, still clutching himself. “I’m not playing!”

“Looks like you’re playing with something, mate,” Louis jokes, raising an eyebrow at Harry’s hands in his crotch.

Getting frustrated, Harry crosses his legs and squeezes them together at another powerful pee urge.

“I’m not. I just have to wee really bad,” he explains, squeezing his eyes shut until the particular urge finally passes.

“Well, hurry and get that taken care of then,” Louis tells him. “Cause we’ve only got what, five minutes did Paul say? And that was five minutes ago.”

Harry bounces up and down, “I know!”

Suddenly Niall sneaks up behind Louis, shoves him out of the way and kicks the ball from between his feet, dashing off again.

“Hands!” Louis shouts at Niall’s cheap shot. “Hands! Penalty. Get back here cheater,” and he runs after him.

Harry whimpers again as the others resume their game. He twists on the spot as he fights off another incredible urge. Fuck, that’s it. Turning quickly to dash to the loo, Harry’s suddenly hit right in the head by that bloody soccer ball and he squeaks out in surprise. He can already hear the boys laughing at him and he turns around to tell them to seriously knock it off already, when he sees in horror that they’re all charging at him; teasing grins on their faces. Harry doesn’t even have time to react other than a helpless grimace before Louis tackles him, followed by Niall, Zayn, and finally Liam to complete the dogpile. 

“Noooo!” Harry shouts, hitting the ground with a thump as the boys fall all over him. “You guys don’t!” He tries to plead, but it’s too late and they’re all shouting and laughing and no one hears. Someone’s hand hits him right in the bladder and he gasps, straining to keep the liquid inside. Then somebody else falls right on his lower stomach too and he huffs fretfully, “I have to pee, I have to pee!! Don’t! I really have to wee - Get off me!” 

But it’s too late. His bladder can’t take all the extra pressure of four bodies climbing all over him, and he feels pee start to leak out. And it’s coming fast.

“Fuck!” he cries, trying to shoving the others away. “Move, get off! Seriously. You have to move!”

“Aww Hazza, what’s the matter,” Zayn jokes, because apparently all of Harry’s warnings and pleadings have fallen to deaf ears, as usual. “We’re just -“

But Harry cuts him off, “I’m gonna pee my pants!” he panics, which is a bit of an understatement considering he’s already started doing that. 

Harry tries to wiggle and squirm his way out but now Niall is rolling right over his stomach again, and Harry reaches his hand down to grip his crotch. He somehow manages to cut the flow of urine spilling from him, but he can absolutely feel how wet his jeans have just become. And suddenly, he’s not the only one.

“Hey, what the –“ Liam says, looking down. 

“Why’s it all wet?” Niall adds a second later, looking around confusedly for the source. 

“Move!” Harry starts pushing away at whoever’s currently pressing right on his bladder, but he can’t let go of his hold on his cock either. He tries desperately to keep anymore pee from escaping, “Please, get off me!” 

“What happened?” Zayn suddenly leans in.

“Uh ohh,” Louis says, as he finally spots the wet patch on Harry’s jeans, and seems to remember Harry’s previous plight. “Harry needed a wee and we just attacked him, mates.”

“I’m gonna wet my pants!” Harry cries again, wiggling furiously, “Seriously. Please let me up!”

Finally seeming to appreciate how serious the situation actually is, the boys fall off him and Harry scrambles away, wincing, cringing and leaking pee all the way to the little toilet.

That first set of mother and children are just making their way out and the next set is ready to go in, but Harry cuts right in front of them, squeaking out an apology, “Sorry, sorry! So sorry!” as he shuts the door behind him. But he can’t even attempt to get his jeans undone or even situate himself in front of the toilet before the rest of the pee he’s been holding just completely floods out of him. 

A rush of warm wetness drenches his thighs, soaking the rest of his pants and puddling around his feet. Paralyzed with both relief and bewilderment, Harry’s mouth’s gone dry and his breathing comes out in quick, breathy huffs. 

Almost too afraid to, he looks down at his sopping legs in horror. What the actual fuck is happening?

Well, if his dripping trousers, slippery floor, and urine still draining out of him are any indications, then Harry’s completely weeing himself in a toilet is what is happening. Who does that? But god, it feels so bloody amazing to finally get rid of that aching pressure all those gallons of piss was causing. He tips his head back despite himself and breaths out a long, slightly shaky sigh; both relief and worry tugging at him now. How is he getting out of this one? Well he’s going to have to figure something out because he can’t stay in here forever, and that’s for sure.  

Quickly, he takes off the flannel he’d been wearing over his t-shirt and ties it around his waist. That’ll at least block the back. And thank god he has black jeans on. He doesn’t know what to do about his front; ironically where most of the damage is, but the smell in this place is seriously about to make him puke and he has to get out of here.

Gritting his teeth, he turns the lock, smiles sweetly at the mother and child who are looking at him in shock, and says, “I’m really sorry!” before jumping out and racing back to the boys. They’re all standing around the picnic table awkwardly, obviously waiting for Harry to return, but he doesn’t stop to chat before dashing past them all and to the safety of the van. Not wasting a second, he leans over the driver’s seat and honks the horn a few times, signaling everyone to get their asses over here.

Louis’s the first to arrive, and when he sees him, he says, “My god Harry. What the hell happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Harry tells him, trying to lean forward to block the view of his stained pants. “But we have to make a pitstop before the interview.” Then sort of obviously, he grimaces at the state of his trousers.

He knows Louis’s following his gaze, and it’s only a second before he fully understands. “Wow. Okay. Right,” he motions to the others, “come on then lads.”

Eager to know what the commotion is all about, the others lean in and Louis smiles widely; never a good sign, as he climbs in beside Harry, “We have to get Hazza a change of pants.” Then he runs his fingers through Harry’s hair as he adds, “And maybe we outta bring along a few nappies as well. Just to be safe.”

Harry closes his eyes in misery. He should try to remember from now on that one embarrassing moment a day is never quite enough in his case.


	5. Birthday Shopping

As Liam leaned to read the quote off another silly novelty mug, Harry stood off to the side trying his best not to do the pee dance. Or at least, not an obvious pee dance. It wasn’t working out too well though as he was currently rocking back and forth on his feet with his arms crossed over his chest. But he hoped it was passing off more as boredom than anything else. Luckily, Liam didn’t seem to notice.

Instead, he snatched up the mug he’d been reading and flashed it at Harry excitedly, “What about this?” 

Harry squeezed his legs together once, readjusting the shopping bag in his hands and raised an eyebrow at Liam. He shook his head firmly, “No.” 

Just because Harry had to pee it didn’t mean he was going to let Liam waste his money on something that dumb, even if it meant they had to look a little longer. It just wasn’t birthday present material, by any standards – and definitely not by Harry’s. Actually, nothing in this store was. But that hadn’t stopped Liam from glancing along every shelf and riffling through every single display set out. He seemed incredibly intent on finding something, despite everything in here being completely useless junk. 

Shifting his weight uncomfortably, Harry chewed on his bottom lip. His bladder had been nagging him for the last three shops now to stop what he was doing and find a toilet. Unfortunately for him, sometimes these things were easier said than done. 

He’d already checked this little store they were currently wasting an absurd amount of time in, three times for a loo, and each time had given him the same unhelpful result. Actually, none of the shops Liam had taken him to so far had had a bathroom. Hm. Not really the ideal shopping setting. It wouldn’t be so bad if Harry hadn’t been such an idiot this morning. Why he’d thought downing an entire pot of tea before heading out had been a smart idea, he had no clue. Right now, it was just feeling a lot more like a dumb idea.

Crossing his legs casually, Harry tensed his thighs, squeezing them together. He didn’t really have to go _that_ bad. It was more of an annoyance than anything, but he still wouldn’t mind getting somewhere with a toilet, sooner rather than later. Before it got worse. 

He’d been subtly trying to get this point across for a few minutes, but as usual all attempts had been lost on Liam who was too busy giggling at the idiotic display cases than paying attention to Harry’s silent pleading. Setting his hands on his hips, Harry raised his eyebrows at Liam expectantly, barely resisting the urge to start tapping his foot. Only that would have been more because his bladder was so annoyingly full, rather than to add to the ‘ _can we please leave now_ ’ effect he was aiming for.  

When Liam noticed Harry’s pouting, he said, “I asked for your help, remember? That’s not very helpful.” 

“I don’t know why you’re bothering with these mugs,” Harry made a face, reaching for a stupid red one on the edge of the table. Leaning awkwardly to the side, he read the inscription aloud, “’ _I Heart Air Quotes_ ’?” Then he shrugged his shoulders at Liam. “What about this says ‘Niall’ to you?”

“Well, that’s why I asked you to help,” Liam reminded him, reaching for another cup and squinting his eyes at it thoughtfully. But he frowned before he’d even finished reading it, “Ok, you’re right. I’m doomed. I have no idea what to get him.”  

“You’re not doomed,” Harry told him, trying to straighten his posture a little. He adjusted the shopping bags in his arms distractedly.  

“No, I’m pretty sure I am,” Liam disagreed, poking at a few pencil toppers unenthusiastically. “Niall’s birthday is _tomorrow_. This is the third shop we’ve been in and I haven’t found him anything! I’m the worst friend in the world. Admit it,” he added dramatically.

With a small roll of his eyes, Harry smiled, “Yes Liam, you’re the worst friend. I don’t know how any of us put up with you, to be honest.” When Liam continued to look discouraged, Harry said, “Why don’t you start asking people to give you a list from now on? Of what they want.” 

Honestly, it wouldn’t be that bad of an idea. This happened every year, for every occasion. Liam waited until the very last minute to buy his gifts, and then suddenly nothing was right and nothing was good enough, and he just continually put himself through this year after year. Harry had seen it happen so many times, he didn’t even know why Liam had bothered asking for his help in the first place – it wasn’t like Harry didn’t know it was coming. It was sort of like some understood routine by now. He squeezed his thighs again as Liam continued to pout. 

Giving up on the pencil toppers, Liam moved over to a display of cheap-looking action figure dolls.  He frowned at Harry’s suggestion, “Where’s the fun in that? He can’t _know_ what I’ve got him. It’s gotta be a surprise.”

He began fussing with the dolls and Harry crossed his arms, fighting the urge to cross his legs. Continuing to try and ignore the way his bladder was starting to ache now by how full it was, wasn’t really working anymore. It wasn’t necessarily screaming at him, but it wasn’t exactly whispering either. It was more a loud suggestion of, _‘How about you do us both a favor, stop being foolish and get to a toilet already?’_ He really should not have drunk so much tea. It was only ever a - short - matter of time before it just ended up going right through him.  

Harry leaned back against the wall and chewed his lip some more, hoping his stance passed as more of an ‘ _I’m just resting for a minute but I’m alright, no worries_ ,’ than an ‘ _I need to wee, can you hurry up and pick something already_?’ one instead. But he still avoided saying anything. 

“Hmm, I have a bad feeling about these,” Liam finally decided, holding up an action figure with a bright orange suit, even brighter green mask, and shockingly yellow cape. “Who’s this supposed to be? Ridiculousman?” 

Harry gave the doll a curious look, still trying to unsuccessfully ignore his filing bladder, and made a face, “More like ObnoxiousMan, I think. I’ve never seen that shade of yellow in my life.” 

Setting the doll carefully back on its original standup post, Liam hung his head hopelessly, “I give up.” 

“Liam. This is a souvenir shop,” Harry reminded him yet again. He patted his shoulder lightly, “You know, for tourists. You were never going to find anything in here.”

“Well, it looked nice from the outside,” Liam grumbled.  

“Do you want my honest opinion?” Harry asked him. He reached over to grab another of the action figures, hoping Liam wouldn’t notice how he was pressing his legs together. He held the doll up to his face and frowned. “I really don’t think anything in this shop is good enough for Niall’s birthday. Sorry.”

Liam continued to pout, glancing around as if hoping to prove there was something here worth taking interest in. But it was only a moment before he eventually sighed in defeat, “Yeah, okay. We can go.” Relieved, Harry smiled happily. Yes, he was definitely ready to _go_. “But,” Liam added sternly, “I’m not going home until we find _something_.”

“We will,” Harry assured him, reaching for his shoulders and steering him towards the door before Liam could find anything else to become distracted by. “There’s plenty more stores to check out. Don’t worry.” And maybe, hopefully, these stores would have a toilet Harry could use.

For whatever reason, Harry had remained quiet about his need to wee this whole time. He didn’t really know why. It just sort of felt like useless information until he managed to get somewhere with an actual toilet. He noticed he sometimes got randomly shy about the matter. It didn’t help that it was entirely his fault for drinking too much before setting out either. Besides, if he started nagging Liam about wanting to go, then Liam would become flustered and end up picking out the wrong birthday present and never forgive himself. And that wasn’t exaggerating either. Harry didn’t want to be responsible for that mess.

Today he decided he’d just deal with his need until they found someplace he could go. And if that happened to be anytime in this current century, well that could only be a plus. 

They made their way back outside. It was only September, but it was getting chilly fast. Harry zipped up his jacket and looked around timidly. Many small shops and little boutiques lined the streets downtown. There must be a bathroom around here somewhere. But if these places were anything like the last few stores he and Liam had been to, then they were completely useless as far as those conveniences went. There were other things around too though, like little cafes and restaurants. Harry felt sure he’d find something.  
   
“Let’s get a drink, shall we?” Liam suddenly said as Harry squinted down the street, trying to find somewhere he might possibly be able to pee. “I need a break.” He glanced around, oblivious to the way Harry was bobbing up and down on his toes slightly. “What’re you in the mood for - Tea? Coffee? Juice?”  

Harry winced. The last thing he needed was any more tea. Or coffee. Or juice. In fact, the idea of all that liquid sent a quiver through his bladder; reminding him that he should really consider finding a loo somewhere and emptying it before things started getting any worse. 

“Um sure, whichever,” he nodded, wincing slightly in discomfort. “Sounds good.”

Liam suddenly took his hand, pointing somewhere ahead of them, “Well, there’s a coffee place over there, it looks like.”

Harry glanced over quickly and when he spotted the café, he instantly felt better. For sure there would be a toilet in there. Then he could pee and actually concentrate on helping Liam find Niall a birthday present, instead of just thinking about how full his bladder was getting and what an idiot he was for drinking so much.

The coffee shop was across the street and Liam started leading Harry off, weaving their way through the crowded sidewalk. With each step Harry was starting to wince internally. _’Need to weeee. Ohhh boy, I need to wee._ ’ He was scrunching his face a bit against the pressure. Harry was really glad Liam suggested the break, so he didn’t have to. His plan now was to just hit the toilet casually when they went in so Liam wouldn’t know how bad he actually had to go. Harry just didn’t feel like making a big deal out of it.

They made it to the street corner, but had to wait for the traffic to clear before they could cross. Liam still had his hand, but when he made sure Liam wasn’t looking, Harry used his other hand to quickly adjust his waistband, tugging it off his bladder so there wasn’t so much added pressure. 

Suddenly Liam pressed a quick kiss to Harry’s cheek. Harry glanced at him, feeling himself start to blush. “What was that for?” 

Liam smiled, “For coming with me today.  I know I’m not the easiest shopper to deal with.”

“No. You’re not,” Harry grinned. “But if you buy me my coffee then I’ll probably forgive you.”

The seconds ticked away; feeling more like endless minutes as they waited for the streetlight to change, and Harry tapped the fingers of his free hand against his leg impatiently. The longer the light was taking to change, the harder it was for Harry to resist swaying slightly from side to side. The pee dance he’d been trying to avoid was starting to become _unavoidable_ at this point. 

Liam was fiddling with his phone now and Harry took the opportunity of his distraction to bend forward slightly at the waist. Why in the world did he drink so much tea? He was really, really regretting that decision and just the thought of it was enough to make him scrunch his face and bite his lip uncomfortably. 

Harry’s eyes moved back and forth between the traffic light and the coffee place. He was actually really anxious to pee at this point. The traffic light finally changed and Harry squeaked happily. Yay. It was going to be a nice relief to finally get inside that café’s toilet and get rid of this full-bladder feeling that’s been taunting him for pretty much their whole outing. He was really going to feel a lot better. 

He made one step to cross the street, when suddenly Liam was tugging him back, saying, “Hang on a sec.”

Having been so concentrated on his destination, Liam caught Harry slightly off-guard. “What?” he looked around confusedly.

Pointing excitedly to a little stand a few feet away selling framed cartoon art, Liam exclaimed, “Check those out!” 

“Heh neat,” Harry gave the pictures a quick smile before his attention was back at the street corner. If they didn’t start moving, they were going to miss the light and have to wait again. “Aren’t we getting something to drink?” he reminded, shifting his weight uncomfortably. He wanted to tell Liam that he had to pee, but he didn’t. He just glanced back at the coffee shop wistfully, his lip between his teeth. 

“The drinks aren’t going anywhere,” Liam told him, pulling Harry’s hand and leading him away from the street corner and to the table of artwork instead. 

With another glance at the café, Harry scrunched his face but let Liam pull him away. He could still wait. This was only going to take a minute or two, right?

“Do you think Niall would like any of these?” Liam had reached the table and was rummaging through a box of discounted pictures that were set out.

Harry pulled one out and squinted at it thoughtfully, “They’re alright.”

“Really?” Liam seemed genuinely surprised that Harry actually agreed with him on something.

“I mean, they’re better than anything you’ve shown me so far,” Harry told him, passing over the picture he’d grabbed. “I like this one.” As Liam looked it over, Harry squeezed his legs together and tried to keep the strain off his face. 

The guy working the table suddenly popped out of nowhere to inform them that this particular item was a ‘limited edition/collector’s item – imagine that’; which didn’t fool Harry but seemed to fascinate Liam even further as he started turning the picture around, “How can I tell?”

Leaving the two to work it out, Harry paced the table, glancing at a few other pictures but all the while really just hoping this wasn’t going to take too long. That was kind of being selfish though, and he knew it. Liam had asked specifically for his help today, and for the last thirty or so minutes, all Harry had been doing was thinking about his bladder.

_’And whose fault is that?’_ He could hear Liam now. _’Don’t think I didn’t see all that tea you tipped back this morning. You really should have known better. Blah, blah, blah…’_ Harry decided he didn’t need a lecture, so he just stood off to the side, crossing his legs casually and waiting. Liam was too absorbed in finding the right gift for Niall’s birthday anyway to notice Harry’s squirming, so Harry figured he was safe for now.  

But he frowned a bit when the guy selling the pictures lead Liam over to another section of the table, insisting that he had ‘plenty more where that came from’. 

_’Come on Liam….’_ Harry whined to himself as Liam started shuffling through another set of frames. Now that Liam had suggested that break, Harry was even more ready to take it. He adjusted the shopping bags onto his wrist, sticking his hands inside his jacket pockets and started swinging his body from side to side, intending to blame it on the cold if anyone happened to notice and decide to call him out on it. And that was pretty silly because who was even watching him in the first place? But at least he had his excuse set just in case. 

He continued to watch Liam, his eyes shooting every now and then to the coffee house calling to him from across the street.

Ten minutes later, Liam had been tricked into accepting three more of the framed art pieces, and Harry decided it was time to step in; not only for Liam’s sake, but for his own. Between the chill and Harry’s need to pee, ten minutes was feeling a lot more like thirty. 

“Hey,” he said as he made his way over. 

“Harry, check these out!” Liam fussed around with his armload until all four pictures were awkwardly held out for him to see. He looked so excited Harry almost agreed to just let him buy them all, but he caught a glimpse of the seller hovering behind Liam, greedily tapping his fingers together, and Harry went resolute again.

“Liam, come on. Niall doesn’t need four pictures.”

“I think he does,” Liam disagreed, reaching into his pocket, fishing for his wallet.

“Why’s that,” Harry wondered, shifting restlessly and turning his knees slightly together. He really didn’t like the way that guy’s eyes were widening to an almost unnatural size as Liam counted his money out.  

Liam however, was completely oblivious as he grinned, “Four walls to a room, right? One picture for each wall. Am I clever, or what?”

Liam was so irresistibly proud of the way his mind had worked that one out, that Harry could barely argue with him. Besides, if he just let Liam have his way, then Harry would be a lot closer to getting to that toilet. And that just seemed like a better use of time than standing out here while Liam continued to come up with every sort of reason why Niall did in fact need four of these silly pictures.

“Alright. They’re fine I suppose,” Harry finally nodded and Liam turned excitedly back to the seller again.

Thinking he was pretty much home free, Harry glanced stealthily back across the street to the coffee place. His hands were still in his pockets and he set one carefully on his bladder, wincing at how full it was. When he turned back around, Liam had once again been lead to another section of the booth and was being showed an even bigger picture that was, as the seller so eagerly put it: ‘ _a one of a kind piece. And coincidentally, only for sale today. Well son, you just came to the right place at the right time, didn’t you? How much did you say you were willing to spend, now?..._ ’ 

Shaking his head, Harry hurried over to intervene once again. This guy was trying to play Liam for a fool and if any of them were going to be that easily convinced, it was Liam. Luckily, Harry wasn’t quite as naïve and he made his way over to the pair, tugging at Liam’s elbow sharply.

“Does Niall have five walls to a room now?” He indicated the new picture and raised his eyebrows pointedly. 

“Maybe I should give him options?” Liam was worrying his lip between his teeth as he tried to balance the armload of pictures while still attempting to accept the latest one.

“You’re going to confuse him if you give him that many options,” Harry tried to insist. He jiggled slightly on his toes and huffed, “Come on. Just get him the one that we both liked, and put the rest back. You don’t want to spend all your money in one place, do you? We’ve still got a lot more stores to check out.”

Pursing his lips, Liam struggled to not drop the items from his hold, but he was still eyeing the new picture uncertainly. “But – “

Harry decided to try a new tactic since rationalization obviously wasn’t going to work. He said, “Let’s go get our drinks, and you think it over. If you still really want them after that, then we can come back and get them.” That seemed fair enough. And when Harry said ‘Let’s go get our drinks’, what he actually meant was, ‘ _Please let’s go so I can pee - I really have to go!_ ’

But Liam looked worried, “What if I do want them after that, and I come back to get them and they’re gone?”

“That’s a very good point, my friend,” the guy working the table; and apparently listening in on their conversation, agreed.  Harry gave him a glare but Liam continued to look nervous as the seller added, “This artwork sells faster than I can get it.”

Becoming slightly flustered at both this guy’s continual attempts at persuading an easily persuaded Liam, as well as the increasingly ignorable throbbing in his bladder, Harry huffed a groan as Liam began eyeing his items again. 

“Please let’s go get coffee and then we can come back? Just buy the one for now.”

“Since when do you even like coffee, anyway?” Liam wondered, finally sifting through the pictures already in his arms and frowning at a couple.

“I like coffee,” Harry insisted, even though he could think of a hundred other drinks he’d rather have instead. Actually no, scratch that. He didn’t want to think about any drinks. But it was too late. He already had a perfect visual of a steaming pot of liquid pouring ever-so-slowly into a see-through glass, so that Harry was forced to watch it splash around the sides as it filled the cup to the brim. It was quite reminiscent actually to the way all the urine inside him was filling his bladder to the brim. He spluttered, grimaced and pressed his thighs together again.

“I was actually hoping they’d sell tea in there,” Liam muttered, interrupting Harry’s thoughts; which wouldn’t have been such a bad thing if he had managed to choose a different topic to do it with.

Okay enough talk about drinks, already. Harry bent his knee awkwardly into his other and finally gave in when he realized that telling Liam why he was so anxious to get going was the only way Liam was ever going to actually get going. 

Shyly, Harry leaned to whisper in Liam’s ear, “I sort of need a wee…. So, can you just get the one picture for now? Please? And then we can come back?” He felt himself blush slightly, but he chewed his lip, looking at Liam pleadingly. 

After a lengthy sigh, Liam finally mumbled, “Fiiinnneee,” and he started setting the rest of the pictures back on the table, hanging onto the one Harry had picked. Harry was struggling to stay still as he shimmied his hips slightly in impatience while Liam paid the man; who had turned a lot more sullen now that Liam had lightened his load so considerably.  

Grumpily shoving the artwork into a bag, the man handed it off to Liam and Harry quickly took his hand, anxiously steering him back in their original direction of the coffee house across the street. They made it to the street corner but were once again stuck at another waiting signal before they could cross.

As he was forced to wait some more, Harry crossed his legs at the ankles. He really needed to go actually. It was pretty much at the point where he would not be hesitating to get himself to a toilet if one were around. He sucked in his stomach a little, tensing his bladder muscles to calm the urge down.

And he didn’t even realize that he’d started leaning slightly from side to side, crossing and un-crossing his legs at intervals, when Liam suddenly joked, “Do you really have to go, or something?” 

Instantly, Harry’s blush came back and he made himself stand still. Or at least, sort of still. Bending his leg behind himself instead, he started tapping the pavement with his toe. Not only did he not particularly like people knowing he had to pee in the first place, but he especially hated when they knew it was getting bad.

Harry shook his head, his eyebrows furrowing against the unsettling pressure, “No,” he lied. He quickly came up with another excuse, “I just want to get there because we still have a lot of shopping to do and only a little time to do it.”

“Well,” Liam said, admiring his latest purchase, “I am quite happy with this drawing. I think it was a good find. And you’re right, too. I don’t want to spend all my money in one place. Niall doesn’t need four pictures. So, we don’t have to go back. That guy was kind of a creep anyway. Let’s just go somewhere else. Where should we go, do you suppose? Oh, look there’s a - ”

“Mm’K,” Harry cut him off as the light changed for them to cross. He tugged Liam after him, feeling sort of bad because he’d barely listened to a word of what Liam had just said, but he was really just focused on peeing right now. 

They reached the café and Harry pulled the door open, leading the way inside. It was a bit crowded, but warm and Harry’s eyes were dancing around as soon as they stepped in.

“No queue,” Liam noted, leading the way to the counter. “That’s simply unheard of.”

“Yep…” Harry craned his neck past the little fireplace set out in the back of the room, and that’s when he spotted the door peeking out from behind it, reading ‘Toilet’ in big black letters. He hadn’t even peed and he already felt better. Just knowing it was there and he could use it soon and get rid of this aching pressure that had become incredibly distracting and uncomfortable. He squeezed his hands into fists at the thought. 

But before he could make a move towards it, Liam turned to him, “They do have tea. Oh good. Is that what you want, too?”

Trying to redirect his attention, Harry smiled quickly at Liam and nodded, “Sure. Whatever you’re having.”

“Ok then,” Liam said, ordering them both a large cup. Squirming around with his lips between his teeth, Harry tugged his hand free from Liam’s grasp and rushed out quickly, “I’m going to use the loo.” He still felt awkward, but at least he was about to be taking care of it and then when he came back, they could move on. Liam wasn’t even going to remember anyway.

Hastily, Harry made his way over to the bathroom door, but when he tried to open it, it turned out to be locked. 

_’Great, just my luck, should’ve known…’_ Harry moaned silently, leaning back against the wall to wait. Still chewing his lip, he really hoped whoever was inside wasn’t going to take their sweet time coming back out. 

Only, they were. Time was ticking by without anyone leaving the toilet, and Harry began tapping his foot anxiously again. His bladder had given up trying to be patient with him now.  

Shifting his weight and then crossing his legs in what he still imagined to be a casual way, Harry peeked behind the wall to see Liam at the counter being handed their drinks. When he had them Liam looked off in the direction that Harry had headed, and Harry whined as he turned back to the door. Wasn’t there a time limit for how long you were allowed to take in a public restroom? And if there wasn’t, there should be.

He had just uncrossed his legs and was bumping himself nervously against the wall behind him when suddenly a barista in a white polo shirt wandered past him and gave him a slightly quizzical glance.

“Are you waiting for the toilet?” She asked him.

Taken slightly back from the bluntness of this question, Harry frowned a little, “Um. Yes.” 

“Oh,” she said, glancing at the bathroom door and shaking her head. “Someone must have ripped the sign down. It’s closed off hun: leaking pipes or something,” she shrugged at him. “Sorry,” she added before walking off again.

Harry clenched his teeth into a nervous grimace and glanced at the bathroom door in panic. Shit. Now what?

“Ahh, here you go,” Liam said happily, passing Harry’s steaming cup of tea over as he made his way back to him. Harry took the tea but winced as it reminded him of all he’d already downed earlier and how it was currently stretching his bladder into something more equivalent to the size of a basketball. Where was he going to find a toilet? He really couldn’t shop anymore until he did.

Liam however, just smiled and started leading him back to the door, “So where to next?”

_’Somewhere with a bathroom! I’ve got to go to the bathroom!’_ Harry thought, but didn’t say. He’d been away long enough for Liam to assume he’d been peeing, and the last thing Harry wanted to do was tell him that the loo had been closed and that he still needed to go. Even though that’s exactly what Harry really _did_ want to tell him. He wanted to tell Liam that he needed to pee really bad, and how they were going to have to find somewhere he could go before they did anything else. But Harry just couldn’t seem to get his mouth to form the right words. All he ended up saying to Liam’s question was, “Doesn’t matter to me.” Oh, what a lie. It definitely, definitely mattered.

As they exited the coffee shop, Harry tried to calm himself down with simple reasoning. Even though he felt like he had to piss really, really bad, he wasn’t actually desperate or ‘absolutely dying’ or anything like that. If he couldn’t even bring it up to Liam, then he must not be in too much trouble. Just a little discomfort. Or maybe, a lot of discomfort. But still, he was a big boy. He could hold it for a while longer. Maybe the next shop they hit would have a toilet he could use. He really hoped so anyway. 

Well, it had been a nice thought. But it was now thirty minutes and two shops later, and Harry was currently trembling where he stood as he watched Liam gaze through a stack of paperback books. He had his legs crossed; his thighs squeezing together and his lip going numb between his teeth. He had to pee. He had to pee so bad. 

Squeezing his half empty tea cup in his hand, Harry crossed his legs even tighter as he fought to keep it together. All that he’d drunk before leaving had not only fully and completely reached his bladder, but now he was suffering even more because he’d stupidly let himself drink half the tea in his hand on top of it. He shouldn’t have, and he hadn’t planned to either – at least not until he’d been to the loo, but Liam had of course noticed and wondered why Harry hadn’t been drinking it, and if he didn’t like it and wanted to go back and exchange it for something else instead. Harry definitely didn’t want to go back and he definitely didn’t need to exchange it for anything else either. So he drank it to please him. Sometimes Harry went to really stupid measures to please people, he was now realizing this.   

Uncrossing his legs, Harry ran a hand anxiously through his hair and blew out a breath. The thought of all that liquid currently filing his bladder to bursting point, made him cringe and he had to bite back a groan. He didn’t know how much longer he was going to be able to put it off for. And to top it all off, he still hadn’t managed to say anything to Liam about it. Fixed on the notion that Liam had already seen him go to the loo and presumably pee, especially since Harry had failed to tell him the loo was closed and he hadn’t actually been able to go, Harry hadn’t been able to gather up the courage to tell him he had to go now.

Quivering, Harry tried not to reach for his crotch to help him hold it. But he had been sneaking in squeezes every so often when he thought Liam wasn’t looking. But Liam was so immersed in his searching that he barely even glanced in Harry’s direction. And for once, Harry was okay with that. 

_’I don’t need a wee, I don’t need a wee…I don’t, I don’t…’_ he kept trying to tell himself. But his bladder wasn’t buying it. It was telling him that he not only needed a wee, but he was about to start hosing down this shop if he didn’t do something about it really, really soon.

Harry was prancing around aimlessly by the time Liam decided to make his way back over. He’d been pacing back and forth between bookshelves and tables, and jiggling up and down every so often as he pretended to read the cover off some books. It was becoming much too difficult to try and stand still anymore, and moving around helped him hold it a little better at least. He was twitching and squirming uncomfortably as Liam came up beside him, and Harry was actually surprised Liam didn’t say anything because Harry figured it had to be blatantly obvious by now how badly he needed to wee. But Liam just had a confused look on his face as he balanced an armload of books. It worried Harry because it meant Liam was going to take even longer – and longer was really not an option right now.

Shoving the books under Harry’s nose but not making any mention of Harry’s pee dance, Liam said, “Has Niall ever read any of these?” 

Harry gave the titles a vague glance as he bent up and down at the knees, huffing out a few breaths. “I don’t know,” he hissed, looking around the tiny bookshop desperately for a toilet, even though he could see every angle of the building from his current spot and there very clearly wasn’t one in here. “Probably not.”

Clasping his eyes shut and wiggling restlessly, Harry whined to himself, _’I need to go!!’_ He started pacing back and forth again, hands falling and clasping uneasily in front of himself. _’I need to go so bad!!!’_

“Are you okay?” Liam suddenly asked him. 

Quickly Harry stopped his pacing, but couldn’t stop himself from twitching his hips as he tried to pull himself together. “Mmmfine,” he huffed out, although every part of him was probably stating otherwise.

Liam shrugged and went back to glancing at his books as Harry trembled again, squeezing the cup in his hand so hard he was leaving imprints in the Styrofoam. 

“A-are you done?” he asked, tugging uselessly at his shirt collar. He absolutely had to get to a toilet or he was going to burst, there was no question about it. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t gone yet.

“Welll…..Hmmm,” Liam looked back and forth between the books in his hand and Harry swore he was doing it on purpose. Taking forever just to stall him. Even though - since Liam didn’t even know how Harry was dying to pee, that probably wasn’t the case. Well, the ‘doing it on purpose’ part wasn’t. The ‘taking forever’ part, on the other hand…

“I don’t know which cover I like better,” Liam said, shoving the pair of books he’d skillfully narrowed down at Harry’s face again. “I know they say not to judge a book by its cover and all that, but I can’t tell which one I like. What do you think?”

_’What do I think!?’_ Harry thought fretfully. _’I think we need to find a loo before I fucking piss my pants and all over this floor, is what I think!!’_. But to Liam, he squeaked out, “They both look fine, I guess!”He tugged at his collar again, feeling sweat starting to line his forehead from how hard he was straining to keep holding this mass amount of pee in.

“Yeah, but – if you had to pick one?” Liam insisted, scratching his head as he debated over the two books.

_’Just tell him!’_ Harry whimpered to himself. _’Tell him you have to go! Just tell him!!!’_ He was dying to tell Liam that his bladder was seriously going to explode if they didn’t get out of here, but he just could not find the words to say it. Which was so stupid, he didn’t understand what his problem was! _’I need to pee, I need to pee, I need to wee so bad oh my god!’_ He wriggled around, bouncing up and down awkwardly at his knees, face tense as he squinted helplessly at the two covers. He hadn’t wanted to be responsible for Liam choosing a bad present and being upset with himself because of it, but now Harry would just be thankful if he didn’t end up peeing himself in the middle of this bookstore.

He threw a finger at the cover closest to him, “That one,” he winced, crossing his legs tightly.

“Why that one?” 

Harry squeezed his legs even tighter, “What?”

“Why you pick that one over the other?” Liam questioned.

God, he had to be kidding. Liam was really not lying when he said he wasn’t the easiest shopper to deal with. 

“I just like it better,” Harry lied. Actually, he wouldn’t even be able to recall one single detail from that silly cover – he hadn’t even looked at it. “Can we please go? I-I wanna go.” Harry begged suddenly, turning his knees inward and knocking them together.

“Why?” Liam asked, still completely unmindful of Harry’s blatant squirming. “I thought you liked bookstores.”

“Yah, but we’re not shopping for me, are we?” Harry reminded, “We’re shopping for Niall.” God, Harry had never felt so full of urine in his life. Which probably wasn’t true if he were to sit down and recount all the times he’d been bursting to pee before this. But at the moment none of those were relevant and right now, Harry was willing to bet money that he’d never been this full of urine in his life.

“Right,” Liam sighed. “Ok. Well…” he gave the books one final glance before setting them back down on a table, “I guess I really don’t want those, to be honest.” 

Excellent! Now they didn’t even have to bother with paying, and they could just leave. Harry was just about to grab Liam’s hand and pull - literally pull – him to the door when suddenly Liam’s eyes grew comically wide and he gasped, “Oh my goodness! I found it!”

Glancing fretfully to the door and then back at Liam, Harry bent forward and back up as he furrowed his eyebrows, “Found what?”

“It,” Liam said again, stumbling forward with his arms outstretched. “The perfect present!” 

Harry tried really hard not to jump up and down as Liam reached onto a shelf and pulled down a huge box. It was an ultimate collector’s giftset that included books, DVDs, and signed photographs of Niall’s favorite football team. If Harry wasn’t so directed by his incredibly pressing need, then he would have congratulated Liam on a job very well done. Right now all Harry did was glance at the door again anxiously, rocking back and forth on his feet.

“I can’t believe this,” Liam was saying as he turned the box over to check the price. “Oh. Well, that changes things, doesn’t it?” Flipping through his wallet, he whined, “Oh nooo, I’m five pounds short! But I have to get this! It’s so perfect -”

Without hesitating, Harry set his tea down and quickly dug in his pocket, pulling out the rest of the money he’d brought with him; which coincidentally happened to be five pounds. He grabbed the boxset from Liam’s hands and hurried over to the counter, saying, “You can pay me back later.”

Harry set the box on the counter and bounced up and down on his toes as the old man sitting behind the register slowly put down the book he was reading and gave their potential purchase a studious glance.

“Ahhh,” he said, making no move to ring them up for it. “I was wondering how long this would last on my shelf. Just got it in this morning. You like football, do you? You know, when I was your age we…” the old man suddenly went off on his tale of the olden days, and Harry was swaying on his feet, having to stop himself from whining –or was it crying? - out loud. He ran his hand through his hair again and tapped his foot, feeling the gallons of pee sloshing inside of him glaringly.

As Liam nodded along kindly while the man talked, Harry simply couldn’t take it anymore. He had to say something or he was going to be in absolute serious _wet_ trouble. And he did not have any spare trousers on him to hide that fact. Just as the old man finally began to ring them up, Harry gulped and, using the convenience of the counter to hide how his hand was gripping at his cock to hold back the flood, he hissed, “Do you have a loo?” He crossed his legs and tensed his thighs sharply. 

Slowly, the man looked up, squinting at him, “Sorry. A what’d you say, lad?”

Squeezing his crotch even tighter, Harry switched legs, crossing them the other way. “A loo,” he repeated, feeling his face heat up. “A toilet?”

“Oh!” The man laughed. “They keep telling me I need a hearing-aid, guess it’s about time I listen, huh? And nope, sorry, no loo here. There’re some portable toilets outside though, aren’t there?”

Harry had never been so happy to hear the words ‘portable toilets’ in his life. Usually he, along with the rest of the world, hated those things. But honestly, he was desperate. He’d take anything. 

Stepping side to side, he waited as patiently as he could; which wasn’t really patient at all, for Liam to buy his item and for them to finally be able to leave. 

Harry practically ran to the door and when they were back outside, Liam said, “I’m really glad you didn’t let me spend all my money on those pictures earlier. This is just too perfect,” he eyed the inside of his shopping bag at the gleaming box giftset.

“Yep,” Harry mumbled, dancing on his tiptoes trying to spot the toilets the old man was talking about. “Uh-huh, me too, it’s really – ohh! There’s the loos!” Across the street from them and behind a newspaper stand was a row of portable toilets, all sparkling like diamonds in the sunlight. Actually they were more rusting than sparkling, but to Harry they were so pretty he almost shed a tear. His bladder quivered at the thought of finally releasing all this pee inside him, and he cringed, stopping to squeeze his legs for dear life. He really was going to start shedding tears if he didn’t wee soon. And they would not be tears of joy either.

“I can’t believe you need to go again, Haz. You have the smallest bladder of anyone I know,” Liam joked at him. “It probably wouldn’t hurt to cut back on how much you drink before leaving the house.”

Despite Liam’s playful tone, Harry felt incredibly embarrassed about the whole thing. And he didn’t even know why. Well, besides the ‘smallest bladder of anyone Liam knows’ part - that was embarrassing and completely untrue anyway: Harry didn’t have a small bladder, he just drank too much earlier. It could happen to anyone. He decided to try and defend himself as best he could.

“I don’t have to go again,” he whined, his hand fisting near his crotch, aching to grab himself. But the streets were way too busy for him to get away with that, so he just imagined his hand was there; gripping himself tight, helping him hold it back a little longer. Imagining it was really not the same as actually doing it however. His bladder pulsed with each step he took. “I never even went in the first place. The toilet at the coffee shop was closed.”

“So you’ve needed to go this whole time then? You could have said something,” Liam reminded, tugging at one of Harry’s curls playfully. 

“I know…” Harry mumbled. 

They made it to the street corner and managed to hit yet another stoplight; letting the traffic through but making them wait. Harry cringed, he didn’t know how much longer he _could_ wait. He had a perfect view of the toilets from here, and no one was waiting for them either which was even better because it meant he didn’t have to worry about getting stuck in any sort of queue. He watched as someone approached one of the toilets, but before they even went inside they shook their head and turned back around to leave instead. Harry thought that was strange, but then again the person probably just decided they didn’t have to go bad enough to use one of those filthy things in the end. Harry definitely had to go bad enough to use one though.

He slid his hands back into his jacket pockets, using it as a disguise so that he could shove his hands as close to his groin as he could get them, bending over at the waist, and then his knees. Liam giggled at him, apparently finally managing to decipher Harry’s wee-dance.

“You’re cute,” he said.

Harry huffed, trying to smile, but it just came off as more of a wince in the end. “Shut it,” he groaned, pressing his legs so close together that they almost crossed, “I really need to go. Really, really bad. It’s not funny.” 

Luckily, the light didn’t take quite as long to change for them this time and Harry hurriedly started making his way across the street, Liam dragging behind as he rummaged through his purchases again. As soon as he was within reach of the toilets, Harry basically ran to the closest one and reached out to grab the door. It didn’t budge. Without even worrying about it, he ran to the next one and pulled it. It was locked too. 

Liam had caught up to him by now and Harry started wriggling on unsteady feet as he quickly reached into his pocket to grab some coins, figuring he must have to insert money to use these toilets. But as he fished around for money that wasn’t there; having forgotten that he gave the last of it to Liam, he was hopping up and down, and he seriously felt so close to losing it right now.  

“Ohhhh!!!” he groaned, pressing a quick hand to his crotch. He was literally about to wee himself on this crowded street. Squeezing himself harder, he crossed his legs tightly and hissed, “Do you have any money?” to Liam.

But Liam was squinting at one of the toilet doors curiously, “It says these are only open until 3:00pm…”

“What?!” Harry glanced anxiously to the little sticker on the door that Liam was reading from, and he could barely resist moaning out loud as his bladder pulsed terrifically inside him. What the fuck kind of bullshit was that!? This could not be happening. No, it could not be happening. Harry checked his watch, it was after 4:00pm. But Harry couldn’t wait anymore.

“Liam, I seriously need the toilet,” he squeaked out, swallowing painfully and twitching his hips fretfully. Shivers of desperation were running down his spine and he started prancing around again, searching the area around them and trying not to panic. 

_’I’m gonna wet myself, I’m gonna wet myself,’_ he started chanting hopelessly in his head. _’I’m really gonna wet myself, I can’t hold it –‘_ “I can’t hold!” he was suddenly shrieking out loud. His entire body was buzzing with frantic need. The pressure in his bladder was agonizing and he seriously didn’t know what he was going to do. Stomping his feet, he whined, “I gotta wee so bad, we have to find somewhere I can go!”

Liam, who had at first been smiling at Harry’s funny pee dancing, now seemed a bit more concerned. He must have realized how serious the situation actually was. Furrowing his eyebrows, he glanced down the street and pointed at a building a couple yards away, “There’s a restaurant there. They might have a loo.”

‘Might’ wasn’t as reassuring as Harry would have liked, but it was definitely better than nothing.  His bladder was absolutely straining against him with fullness and it took all his strength not to pee himself with each painful step he took. Managing to keep himself from squeezing at his crotch anymore, Harry took to tugging at his waistband again, wanting so bad to just pull his dick out and piss somewhere until this horrible feeling of needing to wee so bad that he honestly thought he was going to die, was gone. Just the thought of finally releasing all this urine made him gasp out loud and squeeze his belt in a death grip, wishing it was his dick he was squeezing instead. 

He was trying to press his legs together, but since they were walking – or in Harry’s case, stumbling – it wasn’t that easy. Each step he took made his bladder shake and jostle with all the liquid screaming to come out.

By the time they finally made it to the restaurant, Harry was huffing out loud. He couldn’t believe how bad he had to pee. He really should have just said something so he could have taken care of this sooner. He was really going to have to work on that. Once inside the tiny building, they were immediately greeted by a host who smiled, “Hello. Dining in?”

“Um, is there a toilet I can use?” Harry asked quickly, his reservations were still there but he cast them aside in favor of not weeing himself like a little kid.

“It’s for customers only,” the host informed them; frowning with how often they were asked this routine question.

Harry clenched his teeth. The dreaded response: _customers only_. Harry had been turned down so many times for that bloody reason. But he couldn’t today. They had to make an exception for him, they just had to. Bouncing on the balls of his feet and turning his knees together, Harry pleaded, “Please. Just this once, can I use it?”

“I don’t make the rules,” the waiter shrugged, fussing about with his menus and giving the boys the cold shoulder. 

Tears of frustration were threatening to hit Harry’s eyes now, and he squeezed them shut, trying to find a way out of this situation. He wanted to plead that it was a fucking emergency and could they please just have a heart and let him use their fucking toilet for two minutes – was that so much trouble, honestly???, but he knew he could never say that.

Just then, another couple came into the restaurant and the waiter was suddenly bright and friendly once again, offering to show them to their table while leaving Harry and Liam by the door. The minute they were gone, Harry gripped his crotch and hissed, “I’m going anyway.”

Checking to make sure the host was out of sight, Harry bent and bounced at the knees as he looked quickly for the loo. It was actually just behind the wall beside them and without wasting any time, Harry made a mad dash for it, Liam following quickly behind. Harry gripped the door handle and twisted, squeezing every muscle with all his might to keep the wee inside. But the stupid door was locked, just like all the others, and Harry started whimpering again, feeling like all hope was lost and he was going to have to find a mop and clean up the ocean of a puddle he was about to make all over this shiny tiled floor.

“It says you need a key,” Liam pointed out, reading another stupid sign off the door.

“Ah,” a voice said behind them, and when Harry turned – face red from strain – the host was back and smiling at them. But it wasn’t the kind smile he’d offered to the couple he’d just seated however. “Have you decided to dine in after all?”

Harry bounced up and down. Pee was starting to make its way down his shaft and he gasped, crossing his legs quickly but still trying to keep some form of composure. Yeah, right.

“Please, can I please use the toilet??” he begged, bending over awkwardly. “That’s all I need to do. Please!?”

The waiter just continued to frown at them, “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave if you’re not planning on eating here with us.”

Harry was so desperate he would have just handed the guy over twenty pounds if it meant he could pee, but he knew neither he nor Liam had any money left over. 

So Liam surprised everyone when he suddenly said, “We’ll take a table.”

Harry shot wide eyes to him, about to disagree and remind him that Liam had taken the last of his money and they had nothing to pay with, but Liam shook his head at Harry, silently telling him to keep quiet. 

“Is that so?” The waiter raised his eyebrows. “Well, you’re in luck. We have a wonderful table for two, just by the window.”

“That’ll work,” Liam nodded, grabbing Harry’s hand.

“How will that work!?” Harry hissed to him as they were led off to a spot a few feet from the toilet. “We have no money!”

“Shush,” Liam said.

They slid into their booth, and Harry immediately leaned forward against the unremitting pressure. He was going to burst, and there was no way around it. Using the cover of their table, both of Harry’s hands went straight to his crotch and he grabbed his cock as tight as he could and squeezed. He was trembling, eyeing the loo longingly as the waiter said, “What can I start you off with?”

Harry hadn’t even noticed the menu that was placed in front of him, but Liam just opened his casually as he said, “Uh, can I just have a water please, while I look over the menu...?”

“Of course,” the waiter nodded, suddenly all smiles again.

“And for you?” He turned to Harry as Liam nodded his head encouragingly.

“Can I have the key to the toilet?” Harry gritted his teeth, squeezing the sides of his chair and rocking back and forth in his seat. 

With an exaggerated sigh, and dramatic roll of his eyes, the waiter dug in his apron and pulled out a small key ring with a single key. “Don’t make a mess, please,” he groaned as he dropped the key into Harry’s trembling fist.

Without waiting for any sort of explanation or clue as to what Liam was up to or how they were going to get themselves out of not paying, Harry scurried from the booth and all but ran to the loo. His hands were shaking as he shoved the key into the lock and he twisted his hips around as he struggled to get the door open. As soon as he did, he slammed it shut behind him, not even bothering to take the key back out of the slot. He started unzipping his pants before he even got to the toilet. 

The sight of the toilet was apparently too much for his overstretched bladder too and he started peeing before he even got his dick aimed. A few drops got onto the toilet seat and a little on the floor too, but luckily Harry had managed to avoid getting any on his pants. The waiter’s request that he please not make a mess, ran through his mind and Harry giggled softly, “Oops, sorry,” he sighed, not feeling sorry at all. The only thing he felt as gallons upon gallons of piss drained out of him was amazing relief.

If he had timed himself he was sure it would have said he’d been peeing for five straight minutes. It went on for so long, and he was thankful no one else was in the bathroom because he couldn’t stop himself from moaning and sighing in relief at how wonderful it felt. He’d seriously almost been about to cry because he’d had to pee so bad. Now he was about to cry because he was finally able to. 

He felt so much better as he flushed the toilet, he actually felt a little lightheaded.  
Liam was right there when Harry reopened the bathroom door, and Harry smiled dizzily at him, “Oh god, what a relief! I thought I was going to piss –“

But Liam just took his hand and hissed, while giggling a little, “Come on!”

“What??” Harry was about to let Liam pull him away, but he remembered the key in the door and he went to grab it. “Oh, hang on –“

“Just leave it,” Liam brushed it off, still smiling. “Come on!”

“What did you do?” Harry asked him, but he giggled too; both from Liam’s excitement rubbing off on him, and just because Harry felt so much better anything would have been funny now.

Still laughing, Liam led the way out of the restaurant explaining, “We don’t have money. I just got that water so you could pee. But that waiter was just about to come back so you have good timing.” 

Harry smiled at him, “You did that for me?” He leaned in to give him a kiss just as the waiter came running out of the restaurant yelling, “Hey! Come back here!” while holding the little note Liam had left on the table, reading: Thanks!!


End file.
